A Million Holes Poked In The Soul - Part Two
by mykelara
Summary: This is the story of the Sandbrook case and how it will rip Alec Hardy's life apart. It's a direct continuation of "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul – Part One", and we will meet familiar OCs. So, reading Part One is recommended to put certain things in context, but you can chose not to. A brief synopsis is provided. It may all be AU. Naturally there are spoilers for both seasons.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Dear Readers:** This is the prologue for "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul – Part Two". There is a brief synopsis and the epilogue of "Part One". The synopsis is for those who haven't or don't want to read the first part of the story. I was debating back and forth, if I should do this or not, but in the end I decided it would be a reasonable idea. I do recommend to read "Part One" before starting this story as "Part Two" is a direct continuation and refers to events and features characters from earlier on. But as I said, if you're not into reading a pre-Sandbrook/Broadchurch story, I get that. **So, for those who need a synopsis, please read on. For those who want to read "Part One", don't go on, it will spoil it for you. And for those who have read "Part One" you may skip the synopsis.**

 **I also wanted to thank everyone again who followed Alec Hardy's story so far and who will continue on. I hope not to disappoint you.**

* * *

 **A Million Holes Poked In The Soul**

 **Prologue**

* * *

 **Synopsis of "Part One"**

At the beginning of "Part One" we meet Alec Hardy just coming off a case that has been testing his abilities to stay emotionally detached. His home life has been strained over something as simple as a wedding invitation. Hardy has been chosen to be best man at his oldest friend's wedding, someone Tess doesn't like. Daisy is excited to go but Tess is against it. Hardy is disappointed over Tess' refusal. Their plans to go to the wedding are being seriously jeopardized by sudden events affecting both daughter and father alike. Over the course of a few days, Hardy's world will be turned upside down when he learns about his serious health problem. After some trials and tribulations, Daisy and Hardy make it to the wedding. His relationship with Tess has been suffering throughout this time, but he finally finds the courage to confront his demons and makes a plan to tell his wife, how much his life will have to change. He never will get round to do it though as the morning after the wedding, he's called in to take the lead in the investigation of the disappearance of two teenaged girls.

The story also introduces a few important people in Hardy's life. There is CS Edward Baxter, his boss and friend. They have a long history of friendship and support, built upon their mutual respect and shared feelings of fatherhood and love for their children. Hardy will meet a young doctor, Emily Abbott, who will become his support and confidant in his struggle with his heart condition. And last but not least, we meet Duncan and his family. Duncan is Hardy's oldest friend, going back to when they were teenaged boys. They have been through many ups and downs and keep each other grounded.

Please find below the epilogue of "Part One" and then on to "Part Two"…

* * *

" **The End Is The Beginning"**

The rattling noise of the phone buzzer on the glass table stopped only to resume after a brief pause. Hardy squinted into the sunny morning light. His whole body hurt from the trials of the previous day. He stretched out his cramped up legs and propped himself up. The phone had stopped.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa. He ran his fingers through his hair which was sticking up in all directions. The dress shirt he had not taken off last night was damp with sweat and clinging to his body uncomfortably.

It was too early to wake up everyone with taking a shower so he decided to make breakfast instead, the only meal he was any good at cooking. He tossed his phone on the kitchen table without paying attention to the missed calls.

His mind lingered on the argument he and Tess had after coming back from the wedding. Again, he thought she was right about certain things. He felt relieved that he had finally told her why it hurt him so much that she didn't come with them. It was a start and today he was going to tell his family about his health problems and find a way to deal with it together.

He had just swallowed his morning pills, when the phone buzzed again.

 _Bloody hell_ , it was Sunday morning. Couldn't they leave it alone? He eventually answered.

An irate Baxter didn't waste any time. "Hardy? God damn you. What the hell took you so long to pick up the bloody phone? I need you to get your sorry arse here immediately."

Baxter's tendency to use foul language usually rose exponentially with the stress he was feeling. Hardy frowned.

"Sir, what's going on?" Trepidation made his Scottish accent sound more like a growl.

"There are two teenaged girls missing and I need all hands on deck. You better get yourself and Tess to the station before I have to come and get you."

"On our way, sir."

He hung up the phone. Two teenaged girls, just like Daisy. He swallowed hard. A feeling of dread settled in. He prayed to every god out there that it would only be a case of two children running away and not his worst nightmare.

He balled his shaking hands into fists and took in a few calming breaths. And with every fiber in his body determined to find those girls, he made his way upstairs to wake up Tess.

 _To be continued…_


	2. CHAPTER 1

**A/N:** The whole story is **dedicated to HAZEL** , because without her daily serving of CAPSLOCK love, this wouldn't be what it is!

For those who have read "Part One"… here it is, the first chapter of the Sandbrook case. I hope you will enjoy it. For those who haven't read "Part One" – I would strongly recommend to do so, but I did provide a synopsis and a brief introduction to the OCs you will meet in the story (please refer to the Prologue) in case a pre-Sandbrook story is not your cup of tea (full disclosure – I do not like Tess). And now on to the events who will in the end lead to our favorite detective staring at the horizon for endless hours…

* * *

 **A Million Holes Poked In The Soul – Part Two**

 _For all of the loved ones gone  
Forever's not so long  
And in your soul  
They poked a million holes  
But you never let them show  
Come on its time to go_

 _And you already know_  
 _Yet you already know_  
 _How this will end_

 _Devotchka – "How It Ends"_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

DI Alec Hardy stormed through the main CID room and slammed the door of his office behind him. He threw his jacket over his chair and tossed his glasses on the desk. He paced a few steps back and forth, rubbing his eyes with his long fingers. There was a knock on his door.

"What?" he growled at the intruder. He didn't want to be bothered. What did people not understand about the concept of a closed door?

"Do you want my head on a silver plate or are you good with just biting it off?"

 _Christ_ , why did his boss always have to try to be witty? It was irritating him to no end. He snorted as a response and plopped on his chair. He nervously tapped his desk and stared ahead. CS Edward Baxter was patiently waiting for his invitation to sit down. Hardy gestured vaguely to the sofa, but didn't say anything.

"Care to explain, what that was all about out there?" Baxter was referring to the morning briefing that had just ended.

Hardy was going over the meager amount of evidence they had so far with his team. At some point or other he lost his temper with the stuttering DC who was slowly reciting the movements of the parents on the night of the disappearance of the two girls. He had snapped at the poor woman and yanked away her notebook to proceed to read it out loud himself, commenting on how disorganized these notes were.

It was a mean thing to do and he knew it, but his nerves were fraying already. He hadn't slept last night and hadn't been home in the last 24 hours or so. He still had had no opportunity to talk to Tess after their argument and he highly doubted this conversation would happen anytime soon. Having to listen to her going over the plan for the day without even as much as a looking at him, tipped him over the edge and he stormed off as soon as the briefing was done.

He sucked in a breath through his nose and pressed his lips together. Baxter only raised his eye brows, indicating he was still waiting for an answer.

"Fine! I was an arse to DC…" He'd be damned, if he could actually remember names.

"DC Swenson," Baxter sighed, exasperated with his DI's inability to recall the people who worked with him.

"What do you want me to do? Apologize?" Hardy spat out the words.

"Too late for that. What I need from you is to calm the fuck down. You've been raging through this office since we got the call about the girls and frankly people are terrified."

"That's nothing new. They are always terrified," Hardy interrupted.

"No, Alec, this time it's different."

"Don't call me Alec!" he snapped at his boss.

"Ach, get over it. Don't distract. You've been on edge ever since you stepped foot into the office yesterday. I don't know if it's the case or home, or both, but if you can't keep it together, I'll put you back to doing paperwork, just like I did last week."

Baxter's voice was calm and composed. Hardy's hazel eyes pierced through him, but he didn't even blink. He was used to his DI's temper and knew, if he could channel the passion behind it the right way, he was a brilliant detective.

Hardy held his gaze and after a few deep breaths, he slumped back into his chair, reason starting to reign in his overflowing feelings. Baxter was right, if he wasn't able to focus on the case and to put emotions aside, he shouldn't be the SIO. He nodded with his mouth slightly open.

Baxter stood up. He had accomplished what he had come to do. "Good man. And if you need to talk, you know where to find me. Control it, but don't just shove it away, right?" He closed the door before Hardy could answer.

 _Right_. Hardy had his doubts about how successful he could be with the latter.

His phone buzzed and reminded him that it was time to take his medication.

 _Splendid._ He grabbed it, turned off the alarm and tossed the phone on the desk, seriously annoyed with life. He gagged down the pills as he didn't have any water. Elbows propped up on the desk, he let his head slowly slip through his hands, fingers combing through his thick auburn hair until his forehead rested on the desk, his hands laced together at the nape of his neck. He stared at his feet for a while. Eventually he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

When Hardy left his office to go question the Gillespie parents, he outwardly appeared more composed than he had since they received the call about the girls. Inside though, the storm was still raging.

* * *

Hardy took DS Dave Thompson with him as he felt trepidation about being alone with Tess in the car. He was weaving in and out of traffic, surely not keeping to the speed limit. Once or twice he noted Thompson flinch over a close call.

 _Great._ He couldn't wait for that story to be shared as the latest office gossip. DI Hardy violating all traffic laws. Thompson surely would make some witty joke out of it, as he always did, very much to Tess' and the other's amusement.

They made it there in one piece and Hardy had to suppress a smirk, when Thompson seemed relieved about getting out of the car. The SOCO van was parked in front of the driveway and people were filtering in and out of the house. Hardy and Thompson flashed their ID badges and walked in. They found Cate, the mother of one of the missing girls slumped on a kitchen chair huddling over a glass of wine.

Pippa Gillespie was twelve, the younger one of the two. Lisa Newbery, her nineteen year old cousin had been babysitting while the Gillespie parents were out to attend a friend's wedding. Hardy quickly shoved away any thought of Daisy and him dancing at a wedding the same night these girls had disappeared.

He pulled over a chair and sat down in front of her. He tried to make eye contact, but she was just blankly staring at her drink. Her fingers absentmindedly trailed the rim of the glass.

"Mrs. Gillespie, I'm DI Alec Hardy. We met yesterday, if you remember. We would like to ask you a few more questions, if that's alright with you?" His voice was soft.

"Please call me Cate." She looked up, eyes watery and red. Hardy swallowed. He had talked to many relatives of victims throughout his career, but never the mother of a missing child, and certainly not since he had become a father himself.

He took out his notebook and squinted at his scribble. "You said yesterday that the front door was locked when you and your husband came home in the morning. Is that correct?"

She nodded.

"What… what about the door to the terrace?" He looked out the window into the small back yard.

She hesitated for a moment, trying to recall. She frowned. "I don't think so. But I didn't check the garden first, Ricky did. You should ask him."

Hardy shot a brief glance to his DS. He saw him take notes. Thompson was a decent detective, lacking a little in attention to detail at times and not always the quickest to catch on to the moods of people he was talking to. He made up for that with his charming and pleasant manner which often invited people to talk of their own accord. He was reliable and Hardy was content having him by his side, if it couldn't be Tess.

"Tell me a little bit more about Pippa. What are the things she likes to do, who does she spend time with?" Hardy was putting all effort in not using the past tense, he could feel himself slip. They had no reason to believe that the girls were not alive anymore. No yet, but time was ticking away.

Cate took a sip of her wine. "She has a lot of friends. Always on the go. Sports, ballet, violin lessons. She needs her own taxi service that girl. Just glad that Lee is helping us out with driving her around."

"Lee?" Hardy questioned.

"Oh, Lee Ashworth, our neighbor. He and his wife Claire rent the other half of the house from us. Pippa is rather fond of him. Likes hanging out with both of them as matter of fact."

Hardy made a mental note to find the neighbors and talk to them after they talked to the father, Ricky Gillespie.

On a whim he asked, "Do they have a key to your house, your neighbors?"

Cate gave him a puzzled look. "Why do you ask that?"

"Just to be thorough. So, do they? Have a key, I mean?" He wasn't letting go of that question.

"Yes, they do." Hardy could have sworn there was the slightest hesitation in her voice. He looked at Dave who was oblivious. Hardy sighed inwardly, he wished he'd taken Tess after all.

"Cate, can you think of anyone who would want to harm Pippa? Or Lisa? Please think before you answer, it's important." Hardy knew they had already asked that question before but she had been so upset the day before that she barely was coherent. He wondered how much better off she was today, considering the half empty bottle of wine sitting behind her on the kitchen counter.

She shook her head, eyes blank.

"How about you or your husband?"

Again, she shook her head, holding on to her glass. Hardy sensed she was drifting away and he decided it was time to find the father or the neighbors. He stood up.

"Thank you, Cate. If we have more questions or any news we'll be in touch." He pulled out his card of his pocket and placed it on the table next to the now empty glass. "If you think of anything, please don't hesitate to call, anytime." He nodded encouragingly.

When he was already in the doorway, her broken voice stopped him. "Please, find my little girl."

Hardy's stomach clenched and his heart missed a couple of beats. He could feel a tugging in his chest and he absentmindedly rubbed the ball of his hand over his sternum. He took in a deep breath.

"I promise, we will." He couldn't look her in the eyes, frightened that he wouldn't be able to keep his word, or at least not in the sense she meant it.

* * *

The neighbors were not in. They would have to come back to talk to them. Maybe he would send Tess to do it. They were about to go back to the station when Ricky Gillespie came home. Hardy saw him talk to one of the SOCO members who pointed in their direction. Even from this far away he could tell that the man was wearing an angry scowl.

 _Great._ Hardy was expecting to get yelled at by the irate father. He couldn't even blame him. Who knows what he would do, if his child was missing? Better not go there.

"Are you DI Hardy?" Ricky Gillespie's tone was already challenging, just asking for his name. Hardy braced himself for the worst, reminding himself not to get impatient with the man.

"That would be me." They hadn't met on the day before. Tess had questioned him while he was talking to the mother.

"Why are you bothering my wife instead of looking for my daughter?" Ricky's blue eyes glared at him. He was stocky and a bit shorter than Hardy. His posture was seeking confrontation.

Hardy frowned at him. "'M sorry?" He was confused as to why Ricky wouldn't understand why they had to talk to the mother of one of the victims.

"You heard me. Why are you harassing my wife, instead of getting out there and looking for my child?" Ricky stepped up closer, a little too close for Hardy's comfort but he didn't move.

"Mr. Gillespie, I assure you we have all of our staff on the case, actively looking for Pippa and Lisa. It's also part of the investigation to gather as much information as possible. Anything could be helpful at this point," Hardy said calmly.

Ricky eased up. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair and smiled awkwardly at Hardy. "Sorry. Didn't want to be rude."

 _Liar, you sure wanted to_ , Hardy thought to himself.

"Do you have any news then?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Gillespie. We are reviewing all CCTV and asking around on the estate, but nobody has seen anything." Hardy wasn't big on sharing too much information with the families of victims until it was clear they were not involved in the case.

"Call me Ricky, mate."

Hardy frowned at the familiarity, but let it go. "I would like to clarify something with you, if possible. Do you remember if the door to the terrace was locked or not when you came home yesterday?"

Ricky didn't hesitate. "No, it wasn't. But it rarely is. It's a safe neighborhood, you know."

They both stared at each other for a moment, realizing what Ricky just had said until the other man looked down, face pale. Hardy's heart was heavy. As a father himself, it was hard not to feel for him, even if he didn't care for his bully like demeanor.

"Your wife mentioned that Pippa likes to spend time with your neighbors…" Hardy consulted his notebook. "… Lee and Claire Ashworth. Is that your impression as well?"

Ricky's head snapped up. "Why do you wanna know? Do you think they have something to do with this?"

Hardy didn't let on that he was surprised about the quick connection that Ricky made between his neighbors and the disappearance of the girls.

"Just trying to be thorough, looking into who Pippa spends time with, that's all." His tone was neutral.

Ricky gave him a sideways glance and another of those awkward smiles. "Pippa fancies Claire, they do each other's hair. Claire's a hair dresser and Pippa has taking a liking to it. I reckon she also likes Lee enough to hang out with them. They sometimes help us with driving her around. The girl needs her own chauffeur service." Ricky smiled genuinely this time at the thought of his daughter. His eyes were sad though.

It broke Hardy's heart. He recognized himself talking about Daisy and his attempts at professional detachment were seriously challenged. He hoped to hide his emotions from his face, but it was too late.

Ricky squinted his eyes at him, tilting his head slightly. "You married?"

Hardy nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Do you have children?" Ricky asked quietly.

He cleared his throat. "A daughter, almost thirteen years old." His Scottish accent was thick with the barely hidden emotion.

Ricky looked him straight in the eyes. "As a father, can you promise me you will find who is responsible for this?"

"Aye," was all that Hardy could get out.

Ricky nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "That's all I needed to hear, mate." And he walked inside the house.

Hardy's breathing was rugged. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hiding the tremble. A few moments later he had composed himself enough to drive back to the police station.

* * *

Yet again, he gave Thompson enough gossip material for at least half a dozen more tea breaks. He was pleased to notice that his DS was a little pale around the nose when he climbed out of the car.

 _Wuss_ , Hardy thought while grinning to himself. He snorted. He would never give up driving, whatever the doctors told him. It was just too enjoyable. He felt guilty that he had missed his appointment with Dr. Abbott, but she would understand, wouldn't she? He briefly contemplated sending her a text message but didn't want to invade her privacy. He was going to reschedule as soon as the direction of this case would be clearer.

The elevator took its sweet time, testing Hardy's patience. He was smart enough to resist the temptation of the unnecessary exertion of climbing up the three flights. At least this time. Walking back to his office he noted Thompson updating Tess about their interviews. He slowed down, trying to decide, if he should talk to her or not. Professionalism won over pride and he lingered at her desk until Thompson disappeared.

"I need you to talk to the neighbors, Lee and Claire Ashworth. The mother and father both say Pippa likes spending time with them. And they have a key to the house. I want you to go first before I go."

Tess nodded. "Looking for inconsistencies? I can be there in the afternoon. I'll have SOCO give me a shout when they're back. You'll go tomorrow then?" It was his turn to nod.

He was relieved that she had left their personal issues at home and was working with him as seamlessly as ever. She was a good detective, strong intuition and thorough. Her only flaw might have been a tendency to be too sure of herself and her reasoning skills. He took a brief look around, nobody was paying attention to them.

"Tess, about the other night…"

She cut him off immediately. "Not here, not now. Alec." She was right, they shouldn't bring their marital issues to work, but he couldn't help himself but feel that she was using it as an excuse to not have to talk.

"Do you want to have lunch together?" he suggested.

"Since when do you eat lunch when it's crunch time in a case?" She looked bewildered.

"I told you I am planning on taking better care of myself. Besides I have a deal with Daisy not to skip meals. And I already didn't do breakfast. Please, love, just come and have lunch with me?" His eyes grew wide with his plea.

"I already had food. Sorry, Alec. I need to get this done before talking to these neighbors." She turned back to her computer screen, leaving him out in the cold. He stood there for a moment and then spun his body around, storming off in frustration. He never ate lunch that day.

* * *

After typing up his notes from interviewing the Gillespies, he tacked a big map of the Sandbrook area to his office wall. They had an official one outside next to the case whiteboard, but he preferred to have his own. He meticulously drew in the parents' movements the day before the girls disappeared. Nothing struck him as unusual.

He then carefully shaded the areas they had searched so far and in another color the areas for which they had reviewed CCTV footage. He wasn't sure, if he should feel good or bad about the fact that they already had covered a large amount of Sandbrook and its surroundings.

At some point he noted that Tess had left, presumably to talk to the Gillespie neighbors. Thompson was gone as well and he wondered, if Tess had taken him with her. He spent the rest of the day reviewing CCTV and sifting through phone calls until his frustration grew too much to handle.

He grabbed his coat from the hook and swung it on in one swift motion. He hurried out of the office, intending on walking off his restlessness. By the time he reached the end of the block, he had to slow down. He cursed while panting for air. He padded down his pockets to make sure he had his pills with him only to realize he didn't. All he could do was to take in a few deep breaths and the moment passed. He continued his walk, this time with more measured strides. It wasn't doing anything to ease the tension.

His phone buzzed and he fished it out of his coat pocket.

It was Baxter. "Hardy, did you go home yet?"

Already annoyed, Hardy barked into the phone. "No, just going for a walk. Why?"

"They want a press statement, this evening. You better get ready for that. I'll drive, meet you at 6 o'clock then." Baxter hung up the phone before Hardy could even protest.

"Ach, for fuck's sake," Hardy muttered under his breath. He hated dealing with the press. There was never anything good to come from those bloody journalists who descended upon human tragedy like vultures on a carcass. And it was going to make him miss dinner with Daisy. Again.

* * *

When he got back to the office, he had just about enough time to splash some water in his face, slick back his hair and change into a fresh shirt. He rubbed his hands over his chin, unhappy with the day's stubbles. He washed down his pills with water from the sink. He caught his reflection out of the corner of his eyes. He didn't look as haggard as he had these past weeks, but still, there was a tired look that he wished he'd rather not be aware off. He stared in the mirror, reassuring himself of the confidence in his eyes that he needed to stand his ground with the journalists.

The press conference was held at Sandbrook Juniors school hall. There was a table with chairs placed in front of the South Mercia Police insignia. Children sized chairs were lined up in front. To Hardy's relief the turn out wasn't as big as he'd fear it would be. A few members of the community had found their way into the school hall and perched uncomfortably on the too small chairs. He recognized a local pastor, some teachers and a few business owners. The journalists huddled together in the back. There were only a handful and two photographers. No TV cameras for now. After all, it was _only_ two missing teenaged girls, nothing juicer yet. _God,_ how he despised the press.

He found his spot behind the sign with his name. His boss was already seated, only raising an eyebrow for Hardy's just in time appearance. Baxter did the obligatory introductions, identifying Hardy as the senior investigating officer. He had been through this moment countless times in the last nine or so years since Baxter had made him DI, but it still made him feel uncomfortable on every new instance. And this case was worse than others. The location alone was setting him off. Hardy wanted to twist the balls of the person who had had the idiotic idea to hold the press briefing in a school instead of the police station. What were they thinking, that this was appropriate because it was about missing children?

Baxter kicked him under the table and gave him a glare. He had missed his clue.

 _Bollocks_. He had no idea what his boss had just said and it showed in his face. Baxter gracefully managed to pick up where he had left.

"As I just mentioned we have all hands on deck searching for the two girls, Pippa Gillespie and Lisa Newbery. DI Hardy can fill you in on some more details." Only knowing him so well made Hardy realize how annoyed his superior was. He would have to pay for that mishap later.

"We are actively searching the greater Sandbrook area for the two missing girls. CCTV is being reviewed thoroughly. We would ask the public to submit any recordings from private security cameras, if they think it will be helpful to the investigation. Also, if anyone thinks they have seen Pippa or Lisa or someone resembling them, they should come forward please and contact the South Mercia Police force."

Unease made his Scottish accent more prominent as if to mock his self-consciousness. After giving a detailed description of the two girls and where they had been seen last, he paused. He preferred not to give out too much information. He ignored the fact that he actually didn't _have_ any to share.

Hardy blinked when several flash lights of the cameras went off. Time for the vultures to feast. He couldn't wait for them to descend upon him. Ignoring better judgment, he defiantly decided that his fast heart rate had nothing to do with his _'condition'_ but only his anticipation of what was to come.

A woman with dark brown hair in a tight burgundy dress stood up. "Karen White, Daily Herald. Is there any indication that the victims may not be alive anymore?"

 _Christ,_ _that was fast_. Hardy forced himself not to shift on his chair and to keep his expression level. A knot was forming in his stomach and his already too fast heart chose this moment to pick up the pace.

He put more confidence in his voice than he actually felt. "No. At this point we have no reason to believe that any physical harm has been done to the children besides the fact that they are missing from their home."

She didn't relent. "Isn't it true though, in cases with missing children, the chances of finding them alive rapidly decline after the first 24 hours after their disappearance?"

Hardy was screaming inside. Why would anyone want to parade that in front of the parents of these girls? He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and let it out before answering. He could tell from her expression it didn't go unnoticed. No use in denying the facts.

"Correct. That's what the statistics show. However, every missing person case is different and we can't comment until we find those two girls." He hoped that would shut her up. It didn't.

"So, are you telling us until you actually find their bodies you won't conduct a proper investigation and just go on a search mission?" Her sarcasm was scathing.

 _For God's sake_ , what was it with this woman?

His body tensed up and he balled his hands to fists. Baxter was shifting in his chair next to him, exuding trepidation about how his DI would handle this preposterous implication.

"I assure you, the team at South Mercia Police is approaching the situation with every caution they should. A thorough search is being conducted, while we are investigating evidence and following leads as appropriate. There is no reason to fear monger the public, and especially not the families of the missing girls. I want to make one thing absolutely clear to you and the rest of the press. Interference with this investigation from the media is not going to be tolerated. If you want to help the families then spread the word and pictures of Pippa and Lisa, but no rumors or lies. That would be all."

Hardy had to give her credit for not giving way to his piercing glare. She raised her eye brow, shrugged and sat down. He studied her face and recognized the same fervent disgust his features had shown when thinking about the press, but he was sure hers was directed at him and the rest of the police force. And for once, he would make sure to remember her name as it was certain she'd come back to hunt him down.

When the press had filtered out of the room, Baxter held Hardy back.

"A word, Hardy?"

Hardy rolled his eyes. "What now? I know I screwed up and spaced out. Sorry. Won't happen again."

"True to that. But that's not it. Be careful with that Karen White person. I've heard of her. She is not very police friendly."

"Oi, didn't take me long to figure that out." Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted, and all he wanted was to go home and sleep, not discuss bloody journalists and the need to tiptoe around them. He swayed a little with a sudden bout of light-headedness and had to lean against the wall. He couldn't stop himself from moaning quietly.

Baxter frowned at him. "You alright there?"

"'M fine." He closed his eyes. He wasn't even sure anymore, if this was his heart, emotional fatigue, lack of sleep or sheer hunger causing this weakness.

"Did you sleep last night?" Baxter inquired sternly.

When Hardy shook his head, he followed with, "And I assume you didn't eat anything today?"

Hardy opened his eyes and gave him a blank stare, vision turning fuzzy. He blinked a few times, breathing heavy.

"Blimey, you look like you're going to fall over any moment. I'm taking you to dinner, right now. Don't ask me why I made you SIO. Can't even be trusted with actually feeding yourself."

It took Hardy all his will power to win the battle with his body and not to pass out in front of his boss. He followed him slowly to the car. Luckily Baxter had driven to the school as Hardy would not have trusted himself behind the wheel. He rested his head on the car window and closed his eyes. He was jolted awake by the door opening.

"Come on, Hardy. Let's get some food into you. Your Scottish ancestors would cringe at your skinny arse, you need some meat on your bones." Baxter was holding the door open and Hardy could have sworn he moved towards helping him out of the car, but just about stopped himself.

 _Bloody hell,_ so much for being stealthy about his health issues. This performance sure wasn't going to win him any awards.

After they had ordered food, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. He debated for a moment whether he should take his extra medication or not and opted to do so as a precaution. He cupped some water from the sink and swallowed the chalky pills. Once again he stared at his face in the mirror. Much to his dismay the haggard look had returned. Frustrated with his treasonous body, he slapped his palms onto the sink. It took a few minutes to compose himself enough to go back to the table.

Baxter gave him an inquisitive look but didn't say anything. They ate in amicable silence. Hardy had to force down his chicken and mashed potatoes. Baxter didn't want to hear anything about salad – "I'm not going to pay for rabbit food" – and had ordered a _'real'_ meal for him instead. Admittedly, he did feel better after having finished.

"Thanks for dinner." They were walking back to the car. Baxter padded him on the shoulder.

"Don't mention it. Promise to eat something tomorrow, ey? No more starvin' Hardy, didn't like that image." There was true concern in Baxter's voice and Hardy felt guilty for letting his friend down.

"'M sorry. Won't happen again," he mumbled under his breath.

"No need to apologize, just take better care of yourself, please, Alec."

Hardy nodded silently when he climbed into the car. Self-preservation never had been his strength and he wasn't sure, if he had it in him to change that.

Baxter dropped him off at the police station. It was late. When Hardy reached his car, he realized he had forgotten his keys on his desk. With a tired groan he turned around and dragged himself back to his office. He was so exhausted he barely could keep his eyes open during the elevator ride. The sofa tempted him to just sit down for a moment and he never left until he was woken up by the cleaning staff in the wee hours of the next morning.


	3. CHAPTER 2

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. The latter part of this chapter was the first thing I wrote for this story and has been in my head forever… I'm more than excited that it finally is time to share it with all of you. Alec goes to the river…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2**

Hardy wasn't sure why Tess brought him a set of clothes to change, maybe as a peace offering, maybe it was her way to apologize, but regardless he was grateful for it. He felt energized after taking a shower and shaving. He even was in halfway good spirits when leading the morning briefing.

The good mood didn't last for long though. The DC he had yelled at the day before – what the bloody hell was her name again? – did a more solid job in reporting on the house to house inquiries and he made a point of saying so. However, the information was useless nonetheless. Nobody had seen anything that could shed light on what might have happened to the girls. The time spent on reviewing CCTV footage was rewarded with no yield. Hardy tapped the dry erase marker impatiently on his leg.

"So, what about forensics? Have we looked through both houses yet? Pippa's room? And Lisa's? What about any personal things such as a diary? School friends? A boyfriend maybe? And what about the neighbors?" Hardy rattled down the questions at lightning speed until he caught Tess' look on her face. She was rolling her eyes at him.

 _Bollocks._ He had done it again, hadn't he? It wasn't only his body that tended to get restless during a case, his mind was just as bad. He had a tendency to turn over rows of questions in his head at a fast pace, making connections and bouncing ideas around, a stream of thoughts that in the end often led to the final item that needed to be answered. When his words followed suit he often left his colleagues behind. Tess was one of the few who wasn't lost, one of the reasons why they worked so well together.

He looked at her, shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly. She grinned knowing she had caught him with his pants down. A sudden flash of heat in his pelvis made him very aware of the fact that he shouldn't imagine himself undressed in front of his wife, especially not while the whole team was staring at him intently. He dropped his gaze, looking away from the object of his desire. He turned around quickly to write down a few of the questions. Only his burning red ears were a dead giveaway of his embarrassment.

"Go on then. Back to what you're supposed to be doing." He usually barked the words, but today it sounded rather tame.

Tess walked by him, brushing by his ear. "I know what you were thinking, Alec Hardy. And it certainly had nothing to do with the case." He knew, if she had touched him right there and then, he would have dragged her to his office and shagged her on the desk, and if his heart had given out on him he would have gladly accepted the fact, blissfully so. But she didn't. She walked away without even giving him another glance.

* * *

Hardy was idly staring at the computer screen. It had been almost 48 hours now that the girls disappeared. His heart was sinking. As despicable as that White woman was, she had one thing right though. The chances of finding these teenagers alive were getting slimmer by the hour. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. His neck was stiff from sleeping on the sofa. At least this morning he had had a bite to eat, not wanting to repeat the prior day's mistakes.

There was a knock at the door and he knew who it was without even looking.

"Daisy wanted you to have your lunch box. She says she doesn't trust you not skipping meals." Tess placed the small cooler in front of him together with a cup of tea. She must have noted the uncertain look on his face.

"It's decaf, Alec. I brought some of the stuff from home." His head jerked up, giving her a surprised look. She _was_ sorry about the other night then.

"Are you coming home tonight? Daisy would like that."

"And you? Would you like that too?" He had to ask. He looked up at her, his eyes growing wide with the anticipation of the answer.

"Don't be daft, Alec. What kind of question is that?" There was an annoyed look on her face. Hardy wasn't reassured, but he was more than willing to let it go.

He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the desk, grabbing the lunch box. He peeked inside and found one of Daisy's notes and his favorite scone from the bakery next to their house.

' _Turkey and provolone sandwich. You better eat it. Miss you, Dad.'_

He ran his hands over his face. "Does she know? About the girls?"

Tess and he had an unspoken agreement about telling Daisy things from work. They usually only let Daisy know whatever the public was privy to. Not for the first time, Hardy wished he could still make his daughter believe he was catching bad guys who stole money from the ice cream shop. She had found out a long time ago what gruesome job her parents really had.

Tess sighed. "Yes, she does. She is pretty shaken that one of the girls is her age."

Hardy grew tense. "They don't know each other, do they? They're not in the same school."

"No. I asked her. But still, she's scared. She says a lot of kids are." Tess' voice was strained.

"God, that's awful." Hardy's clenched his hands into tight fists, while taking in some rough breaths through his nose.

"We've got to find them, Tess." He raised his head and their eyes met. His worry they might be too late was mirrored in her blue eyes. She nodded silently.

He leaned back in his chair, scratching his eyebrow, forcefully expelling air out of his lungs. He blinked a couple of times, ridding himself of the disconcerting image of Daisy being scared.

All business now, he stood up and moved towards the map on his office wall. "What about the neighbors? Did you get to talk to them?"

"I did. They were home all night, together. They were quick to point that out. Didn't hear or see anything though. Bit odd, don't you think? If the girls were abducted, one would think there should be some noise. The walls are thin in those town houses." Doubt was lacing Tess voice.

"Hm, dunno. There are no signs of a fight or forceful entry gained to the house." He scoffed, exasperation taking over.

"It doesn't make any sense, Tess. No signs of violence but why would they sneak out just like that? And why, if they did run away haven't we found any trace of them yet? Or did they know who they went with? What about Lisa's phone? Have we traced that yet? How about her cash machine card?"

Tess stepped up next to him, close but not too close. "Last withdrawal with the card was at 3:54 pm, presumably before she went to babysit. Still triangulating the phone. Last call was made to her mother, at 5:17 pm that day."

"Lisa's mother? Have we finally spoken to her?" Hands on his hips, Hardy was pacing up and down in his small office like an animal trapped in his cage.

"Dave spoke to her last night, while we were driving over to the Ashworths. He says she was appropriately upset, distressed over the fact that she can't be back in town until Thursday. Nothing much else." Tess' gaze followed him with raised eyebrows. "Christ, Alec. Quit running around in here. You're making me all fidgety."

He abruptly halted his restless behavior. "Sorry. Helps me think, you know."

"I know it helps you, but it drives everyone else up the wall." Tess gave him that look that she reserved for lecturing him about human interaction. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he looked away. She had the uncanny talent to make him feel like a school boy being called out in front of the class for something utterly daft he just said.

He leaned against his desk, tapping his fingers on the edges. There was something nagging him. Breaking the awkward silence, he picked up on something she had said earlier. "You said they were quick to point out they were together all night. Why would they do that? Why would they be so specific about it? Why not just say they were home? Why emphasize they were _together_?"

Tess was lost only for the briefest of moments. "You're talking about the neighbors?"

He nodded, his mouth open, peering at her over the rim of his glasses.

"You know, it was a bit off the way they put it. It was the guy, Lee, who pointed it out. The woman then quickly confirmed it." She scrunched up her nose. Hardy tilted his head, knowing that she was about to say something important.

"There was something off about them. They seemed on edge, more than you'd expect for someone talking to the police. Especially him, she was composed enough, but he was… don't know, can't put my finger on it. Are you going to talk to them today?" Tess face lit up with excitement, maybe they had something to work with.

"Aye. I'm planning for the afternoon, think they might be at work before then." Noting the time, he pushed himself off his desk and grabbed his jacket, putting it on in one big swoop. He was already out the door, leaving her behind, when he called back, "Going to see the profiler. Wanna come with?"

He smiled when she followed him. Whatever else was going on between them, they still made a bloody good team of detectives.

* * *

Hardy's excitement didn't last long. Meeting with the profiler proofed to be a rather useless endeavor. Nothing fit together or made sense. The girls were so different in age, it was two of them, very different physical appearance. Adding the slim forensic evidence didn't help to get anywhere near a possible perpetrator. He was quickly back to the feeling he had in the morning, that things didn't add up and that they were missing something. He hoped it wasn't a dead body.

He made a point of leaving the office to sit in the nearby park for lunch. He wolfed down the sandwich and eyed the scone skeptically. It was his favorite and he so much wanted to eat it, but he wasn't sure if the buttery pastry qualified as healthy food.

 _Bolllocks._ He could afford one guilty pleasure, couldn't he? He bit into the scone defiantly and finished it to the last crumb. He needed to clear his head and walk off some of the restlessness. Sleep and food seemed to have done the trick, and his body didn't protest at the fast pace. He felt like a daredevil after he climbed up the stairs to the third floor with only feeling a little winded, terrifying his colleagues in the main CID office with the wide grin on his face.

He gathered up Thompson to go back to the Gillespie's house to talk to the neighbors. Thompson insisted on taking his own car this time.

"Not approving of your boss' driving then, ey? Thought you looked a little pale around the nose yesterday." Hardy didn't even try to hide his smirk. His DS had the grace to look embarrassed, but still didn't budge. And when they finally got there, Hardy could feel the dagger like glare on his back when he walked away from the car. Maybe he shouldn't have commented on how long it took them to get there, but then why not?

SOCO had retreated from the Gillespie's house for now. The forensics team was working on analyzing the prints and specimen for DNA testing. Hardy hoped he would get some preliminary results later that day. The Ashworths were not home and Hardy's patience was running out. They seemed to be the only lead they had, and after his conversation with Tess he really itched to talk to them. He made Thompson find out their mobile numbers and call them, only to reach their voice mails. Hardy was ready to throw something at someone. He kicked a few pebbles instead, not as nearly as satisfied with the release.

"I'm driving." He snatched the car keys from a flabbergasted and mortified Thompson and without another word climbed into his DS' SUV. It only took them half the time to get back to the station. Which was probably a good thing, because Thompson looked like he was going to have a stroke any moment.

"Nice ride. A little slow in the transmission though." Hardy tossed the keys at a gray-faced Thompson, a content smile on his face. He walked up all the stairs and had a cup of real tea to celebrate his small victory over life.

* * *

Hardy ended up leaving late that night after reviewing all the preliminary forensics reports over and over again. The prints they had found so far matched the Gillespie parents, and what hey presumed to be Pippa's and Lisa's. There were two other common sets. Hardy wondered, if they might belong to the neighbors. They would have to get elimination prints, if they could ever get a hold of them. He tossed down the file folder, echoing his earlier frustration with not being able to talk to them. It would have to wait until tomorrow. He had all intention on trying to get some sleep at home that night. No more folding up on the sofa in his office. He also needed to pick up more of his medication.

When he got home, Tess and Daisy were already in bed. He popped his head into his daughter's room, needing to see her there, sound and safe, for the first time since they had received the shout almost three days ago now. Images of Pippa Gillespie were trying to claw their way into his consciousness. He shook them off. He carefully walked up to Daisy's bed and tugged the blanket tighter around her. She moved in her sleep, her mouth slightly open, long hair flowing all over the pillow. He pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead and brushed her hand.

Tess was sound asleep, breathing noisily like she did when she was exhausted. He sat down on his side of the bed, peeling of his clothes. They still hadn't really talked since their argument a couple of nights ago, despite her peace offerings today at work. He yearned for the warmth and comfort of her body but he still felt oddly uncomfortable at the idea of sleeping next to her. He decided to go for a shower instead. He took his things to the guest bathroom downstairs as he didn't want to wake anyone.

After he was done, he was yet again restlessly pacing up and down in the living room. Every hour that passed made it less likely for the two girls to be alive. _'Please find my little girl'_ – the distraught mother's words echoed through his memory. He shoved his own terror and fear about losing his daughter deep down in his mind. He couldn't let himself get distracted by the fact that Pippa and Daisy were the same age, so similar both with long brown hair, tall and pretty.

He hadn't noticed that he was panting, needing to catch his breath until a tugging in his chest reminded him of his dodgy heart. He walked over to the kitchen to get some water. He fished the blister pack out from his jacket pocket that he had tossed over a chair. He leaned against the counter and swallowed the two chalky pills. After a few minutes he felt better.

 _Christ,_ he couldn't afford his body not cooperating during a case like this.

There was no sleep for him and so he trekked back to the station. Might as well take another look at the CCTV footage. The CID office was deserted in the wee hours of the morning. He fast forwarded through all the hours of tape with no movements on them, slowing down where people were captured.

Frustrated with the uselessness of the task, he forcefully pushed his chair back. It hit the filing cabinet with a loud clank. He let out an exasperated groan under his breath and took up his usual route of pacing through the main CID office. His long steps took him past Tess' and Thompson's work area, along the rows of desks around to Baxter's office and then back again. He stopped briefly to make a cup of tea, getting even more wound up as there was no decaf. He didn't dare to repeat his earlier dare of drinking regular tea, admitting to himself that it had affected his heart rate almost immediately.

 _Bollocks_. How was he going to get through this without any caffeine?

He reached back to his office and slumped down on the sofa. He was tired and could have used some sleep, but his thoughts were racing. He closed his eyes and lined up the people they had encountered so far.

There was Pippa's mother – Cate Gillespie, at the end of her emotional rope, drunk when they met her for the first time, never sobered up since then it seemed. House to house interviews seemed to support an alcohol problem.

Then there was Pippa's father – Ricky Gillespie, angry and belligerent with the police right from the start. He had been questioning their every move, while pretending to be protective about his wife. Hardy judged him to be a player but then his first impression might be wrong.

Both seemed appropriately upset and clearly concerned. The house was owned by the Gillespies', one half being rented to the elusive neighbors, Claire and Lee Ashworth. Hardy needed to meet them, not willing to let go of Tess' unease around them upon first questioning. He had learned over time to trust Tess' gut feelings, especially when they were negative.

He also had not met the mother of Lisa Newberry. She was out of town and had no means to come back earlier than Thursday. He hoped he would be able to give the woman good news, but truth be told, it was more likely to be bad, if things continued like they had.

There were no signs of a break in at the house or around. The front door had been locked when the Gillespies came home, however the door to the terrace wasn't. SOCO so far had not turned up with anything useful. His eyes drifted to his wall where a map of the Sandbrook area was pinned to the plaster. He had marked which locations they had already combed through. His gaze fixed on the river. They hadn't gone there yet. He propped himself up, eagerness in his movement. This was where he would take his team first thing in the morning.

With a plan of action in his head, some of the tension fell off of him and he plopped back onto the sofa. He closed his eyes and began to drift off. The pictures of the two girls were drifting through his mind and eventually he was asleep, long legs dangling from one end, his head stuck in an uncomfortable bend on the other.

* * *

Hardy got woken up by the sound of his first team members arriving in CID. He groaned when he rolled of the sofa. His neck was throbbing with pain and he rubbed it to ease the tension. He then dragged his hands over his face and through his hair. He stood up and straighten his shirt and tie. He slipped on the blue suit jacket. He figured he was representable enough to step outside and discuss his plan with his CS.

He skipped breakfast in favor of a large decaf tea with extra milk from the cart outside the police station. He washed down his pills before going back inside. He had felt reasonably well the prior day after taking better care of himself. He wanted to believe that this and the medications were working just fine and he ignored the nagging feeling of guilt about not making it to the appointment with Dr. Abbott, his cardiologist.

His patience was wearing thin while waiting for the elevator. Reason lost and he walked up the three flights. By the time he reached the second flight he knew that this time it had been a mistake, but he was too stubborn to give up. Heart hammering in his chest, he waited to catch his breath before opening the door to the hallway. To his surprise, his heart beat quieted down quicker than he would have expected.

He knocked at Baxter's door for formalities sake, but barged in without waiting for a reply.

"Hardy, always nice to see you respecting my privacy." Baxter glared at him.

Hardy rolled his eyes at his boss. "There is no privacy, it's an illusion. You've heard of the internet, haven't you?"

"Aren't we all philosophical this morning, ey? What got into you then?"

Baxter eyed him from over the rim of his glasses. There was a springiness in Hardy's movements which paired with his usual restlessness when working on a case was hard to take. He was all but pacing up and down in front of Baxter's desk, hands firmly placed on his lean hips, brushing back his suit jacket. It made Baxter feel antsy just to look at him.

"The river. I want to do a fingertip search in the area. It's the only place we haven't been looking at yet, one of the few places where there is no CCTV whatsoever. They've got to be somewhere."

Baxter squinted his eyes at his DI. He was skeptical, Hardy could tell.

"Please, sir. We're running out of time. For all we know we might have already." Hardy voiced what they were all fearing. It had been almost 72 hours now since the two girls had been reported missing.

Baxter gave in. "Fine. Take as many people as you need but leave some here to deal with phone calls and the rest of the busy work."

His boss had barely finished his sentence when Hardy already had left his office, shouting at people to get his team together. They were in the woods at the river in less than an hour.

* * *

The grounds under the tall trees next to the river were covered in bluebells. The SOCO team descended upon them, ignoring all beauty of nature. Soon enough a thorough search of the riverbanks was underway.

Hardy was scrutinizing every move of his team until he couldn't hold back any longer. He barked some orders at various DCs whose names he already had forgotten and stalked off on his own, in the opposite direction the team was moving along the river.

He ploughed through the layers of bluebells. His strides were long and surprisingly aimless. He let himself be guided by his meandering thoughts and his eyes trailing the river. He was hoping to find reassurance that the girls were still alive, however deep inside him he knew they were most likely already too late and the nature of this search was way more morbid than they all wanted to admit.

As soon as he was out of eye sight from the rest of the team it started raining. The drops went from soft and drizzly to heavy and pounding in no time. Hardy was drenched within minutes. He didn't care. His hair was plastered to his head and his black coat was hanging heavy of his lanky figure. He marched on, ignoring any physical ailments, just savoring the feeling of water running down his head and face.

The river was quickly swelling with the down pour. The drops hit the water, leaving hundreds and hundreds of small craters on the surface. The sound of rain drumming on leaves was mixing with the rippling noises of the rain coming down on the river. The water was gushing up the bank.

Hardy had to slow down, his heart protesting the fast pace. He walked up closer to the edge. His breath hitched when his trailing eyes caught sight of something. He blinked away the rain and stared across the water. It was a body, small, like a child, facing down, floating in the rain beaten stream.

He froze for the briefest of moments, then without giving it any further thought he slid down the bank, into the river. He needed to get to her, the irrational hope of it maybe not being too late burning in his mind. The cold water gripped him immediately, the strong current tugging and pulling on him. He had underestimated the depth and could feel his footing disappear from underneath him. He struggled to keep afloat, making his way towards the body.

When he felt his heart skip some beats, followed by a disturbing emptiness in his chest, he realized the fatal mistake he had made. He couldn't tell, if the blurry vision was from the water crushing over his head or his heart losing the battle against the strain it was put under. Everything around him was turning upside down, his body being pulled under, water crushing into his lungs. He gasped for air and more water rushed down his throat. Gray mixed with green and brown and he couldn't tell where the surface was. His limbs were flailing in a desperate attempt to escape this death trap. The pain in his chest was excruciating, draining any energy he would have maybe had left to struggle his way to safety.

Black was closing in on him and the empty feeling in his chest was growing with his heart beat fading. In one last attempt to get back to the surface, he kicked his legs and found ground to stand on. He pushed himself up with all that he had left and got his head above the water. He coughed and gagged out some water. He still couldn't get any air into his lungs and the pain was getting worse and worse. His heart stuttered and he could feel every thundering beat it was taking, struggling along. He wretched up some foul tasting water and finally was able to take a breath. And another, and another. The pain eased up just enough for him to realize that something was bumping against his back.

He turned around and the dead swollen face of Pippa Gillespie stared at him. If he had had enough air in his lungs, he would have screamed. But all that came out of his mouth was a whimper. He grabbed the body and dragged her towards the river bank. When it became shallower, he picked her up and carried her. Her limp figure was heavy in his arms, her long extremities dangling. The river water that was running down from the dead child mixed with the rain. It was dripping down his chest and arms and although it was cold, he felt it burning his hands were it touched his skin.

His breathing was rugged and everything was spinning around him, but he took one step after the other until he reached the river bank. He all but shoved her up the incline and then hauled himself out of the water. He was kneeling next to her, shaking from exhaustion and the cold that had taken hold over his body. His heart beat was still erratic but at least it was beating. There was a rasping sound every time he took a breath. He slid to the ground, lying next to this child, who had been in the river for several days, left to rot by somebody who wasn't human. The anger that was boiling inside him kept him from passing out until he finally heard voices coming closer.

He tried to sit up but couldn't. Hands pulled him up, voices frantically trying to get him to answer their questions. He had no breath to talk. He was shaky on his legs and someone steadied him while they walked him back to where the vehicles were parked. He barely made it, tripping and falling down. In the end they more or less carried him, his arms slung over their shoulders. They pulled of his wet coat and suit jacket and wrapped him in a silver thermo blanket. He barely was able to speak when he called Thompson to let him know they found the body. When the ambulance arrived he didn't protest when they put him on a stretcher and wheeled him off.


	4. CHAPTER 3

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. Sometime while writing Part One, I thought about giving Emily Abbott and Ed Baxter a voice in Part Two. So I did. I hope you'll like it. Oh, and if you're still debating about reading "Part One", I apologize because there are a lot of references to "Part One" in this chapter. Alec's fighting the aftermath of going to the river…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 3**

Once they were safely inside the ambulance and Hardy was sure nobody from his team was around, he addressed one of the paramedics.

"I need to tell you something." He had to catch his breath before he continued in a weak voice, "It's not only the drowning. I have a heart condition, arrhythmia. I think I had an attack. In the water. There's a card with my cardiologist's number and my medications in my wallet."

He noted the two men exchanging a glance and then one of them hastily slapped ECG sticky leads on him.

"They didn't give us your wallet, mate. Do you know what meds you're taking?"

Hardy tried his best but he was so worn out and was drawing a blank on the names.

"Sorry. Can't remember, have only been taking them a bit over a week or so."

It became harder to talk and they put an oxygen mask on him. He could tell from their worried glances at the monitor that his heart beat still wasn't doing what it was supposed to. Under his half-closed eyes, he noticed one of them checking their defibrillator. He groaned recalling his first attack, the fractured rib barely healed.

"Please, tell me you won't have to use that. Last time they broke my rib." He was breathless again.

"Sorry about that, mate. Just checking the equipment, just in case. We'll be at South Mercia A&E in a few minutes anyways." He padded Hardy reassuringly on the chest and then proceeded with placing an IV into his arm. It hurt. Hardy closed his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't done so. Pippa's dead face was as horrifying as it had been while he was in the river with her. He snapped his eyes open and clenched the blanket until his knuckles turned white. He desperately tried to stay awake.

"My cardiologist is Dr. Abbott, she works at South Mercia. She would know everything." He tried to focus on the image of getting a bollocking from her because he had been so daft to go into the water despite her warning him several times not to do so. It helped to stay awake until they finally arrived at A&E. He truly hoped to see her though. Because he sure could use one of her comforting shoulder squeezes right now.

* * *

They pulled up to the same entrance where he had dragged Daisy's limp figure out of his car a mere two weeks ago. The feeling of Daisy's weight on his arms blended in with the pull of Pippa's dead body. He was shaking, from the cold and the shear horror of rescuing the girl's corpse from the water. He suddenly felt nauseated, retching under the oxygen mask.

"Are you going to be sick, mate?" The paramedic barely could ask the question, when Hardy forcefully threw up all over the ambulance floor. He whimpered, still gagging, gasping for air. He vaguely registered the exasperated look on the face of the paramedic. He opened his mouth to apologize but had no strength in him to speak.

The guy padded him on the arm again. "It's alright. You've had a rough day. I would have puked out my guts as well. Dragging that poor girl out of the water…" He shook his head, pity in his voice. "Let's get you inside so that they can warm you up and deal with your arrhythmia. Right?"

Hardy nodded weakly. The urge to close his eyes and to just let go was strong, and he gave in. Pippa's face didn't let him find any peace. He was rattled about while they wheeled him into the large A&E room. He was eerily reminded of the day he watched the flurry of activities around Daisy, but now it was him in the center of the organized chaos. He felt lonely, wishing his family was here with him, not caring if they found out about his heart.

The paramedic was telling his story to the A&E team. He drifted in and out, half listening to them. "41 year old male, Alec Hardy, DI with South Mercia Police … nearly drowned in the murky river water… pulled out the dead body of the girl, we saw the corpse, awful… who would do something like that… hypothermia… heart condition, thought I would have to zap him but he settled down… puked all over me, Christ, why always me… doesn't know his meds, another one of those… should call Emily, he says she's his cards person…"

There was a young doctor trying to talk to him. "Mr. Hardy, my name is Dr. Jackson. Do you remember what medications you take for your heart problem?"

Hardy shook his head again. "Dr. Abbott… my cardiologist… was here two weeks ago…" He only managed to get out a few words, his teeth shattering.

"We've paged her. She should be here shortly. Your heart rhythm is still doing all kinds of odd things, but your blood pressure is okay, so that's good, I guess." He scrutinized the monitor and there was an excited gleam on his face. "Fascinating, never seen a real Long QT before, can you feel it, I mean, your heart slowing down?"

Somewhere inside, Hardy idly regretted the loss of this extraordinary opportunity to tear this idiotic doctor apart over his outstanding bed side manner, but he was way too cold and worn out to even get remotely angry.

"Oh, wow, that looks like _'Torsades'_ – this will make a great case for morning report." The doctor – if that's really what he was, he looked way too young to be one – was getting more and more excited, while the familiar empty feeling was growing inside Hardy's chest. He took in a few rugged breaths feeling his heart dragging along.

 _For fuck's sake_ , where was Dr. Abbott? This ignorant fool was going to kill him, too excited to watch what his bloody heart would do rather than actually treat him. _God,_ how he hated hospitals. Come to think of it, maybe he did have it in him to give him a bollocking. He took a deep breath and pulled off the oxygen mask.

"I do shows on the weekend, you know? Maybe I could give you a special rate, 'cause you're clearly a little challenged intellectually. Or maybe your mother just didn't teach you manners." His Scottish accent was growing with the low growl of his voice. He gave him a piercing stare which unfortunately didn't have quite the effect he hoped for as his body spasmed with a coughing fit.

The doctor fussed over putting the oxygen back on him, failing miserably, face bright red. He muttered something about an Xray under his breath and turned tail. Hardy fell back onto the stretcher, still coughing, less violently so and sucking in air. A nurse fixed his breathing mask. She grinned at him.

"Nice one, Mr. Hardy. Looks like you're feeling a bit better, ey? I talked to Dr. Abbott, she's going to be here any minute. Let's see, if we can get you warmed up. I'm giving you some warm IV fluids, it might feel a little funny and here's a heating blanket. That should help."

Slowly the cold was leaving his body and he felt pleasantly drowsy, exhausted enough to drift off to a sleep devoid of any terrifying images.

* * *

Dr. Abbott answered her third page from A&E today. When she heard who the patient was, she cursed under her breath. He had missed his appointment a couple of days ago and she had seen his face in the papers this morning. Of course it had to be him who had to investigate the disappearance of those two girls. She didn't even dare to imagine the stress he was experiencing, a sure way to end up six feet under with his condition. He might as well jump into cold water to go for a swim, a safe way to trigger an attack.

When she found out that that was exactly what he had done, she pinched her nose and groaned a little. Whatever happened to not taking care of reckless patients? _Oh, right_ , he was Scottish and reminded her of her father.

 _Excellent move, doctor, really smart._ Taking on his care was really going to help her reduce her own stress level. Maybe they could take a relaxation class together. _After_ she had ripped his head off.

She found him sleeping on a stretcher in A&E. He was pale and his breathing was rather rugged. She checked his ECG strip, unhappy with how slow his rate was and the amount of abnormal beats his heart was firing. She ordered some of his medications and hoped she would be able to get him out of this episode without it deteriorating into cardiac arrest. Warming him up should help. The nurse told her eagerly about his run in with the newly graduated doctor and she was happy to hear that he hadn't lost his wit. She was going to have a word with that moron house officer.

Hearing the full story, why he went into the river, sent shivers down her spine. She had only seen one dead body coming out of the water, many years ago in pathology class, but the image of the bloated corpse had burned itself into her memory. Picturing him nearly drowning, his heart giving out on him while desperately trying to save the girl he couldn't save anymore, tugged at her heart.

She was pondering how to wake him up gently without startling him, when his eyes fluttered open. She waited until his gaze had fixed on her. Her face was stern and she could see in his eyes that he recognized how angry she was.

"Seriously, Alec. You went into the water? Are you suicidal?" Her voice was sharper than she had intended and she could see him flinch the tiniest bit. She immediately felt bad, he had been through hell today and the last thing he needed was her yelling at him.

He moved his hand to take off the oxygen mask, to say something in his defense, but she stopped him.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. How're you feeling?"

With the mask on it was hard to hear what he said, but his "Seriously?" carried all the annoyance he could muster. He didn't even need to roll his eyes, but he still did.

 _Brilliant question, doctor._ How would he be feeling?

He took in a few more breaths, and then removed the mask. He was weaker than she had ever heard him, even after his cardiac arrest two weeks ago. She glanced at the monitor, his heart rate still too slow. It was more than obvious to her that he needed that pacemaker, whatever further studies would show.

"What took you so long?" Another struggling breath. "What bloody morons do you employ in this place? He was happily watching me die, bloody idiot." He coughed again, violently. She had glanced at his chest Xray, and his lungs looked rather wet, not surprising after a near drowning.

Placing the oxygen mask back on his face, she ordered, "Don't talk. I'm getting your bed in the ICU ready, so stop bickering about the staff down here."

He tried to sit up, swayed slightly, and promptly fell back on the stretcher. "I'm not staying." His voice was muffled under the mask. He started to clumsily pull away the monitor leads.

 _Bloody hell,_ what was he thinking? She tried to grab his hands but he swatted at her. He missed, cursed under his breath and finally gave up.

"Listen, Alec. I'm not sure, if you understand how lucky you were today. Swimming in cold water is the textbook way to die with your heart condition. Literally, I'm not even exaggerating. I was serious when I told you not to do that."

She helped get the mask off his face, knowing he wanted to say something.

"You don't understand, I _needed_ to get her out, they left her in the water, to rot. Who would do that to a child?" Despite being barely able to catch his breath, he was frantic, his hazel eyes dark, terror looking back at her. He was shaking, not from the cold, but from the emotions threatening to tear him apart.

She held his gaze while her hand was feeling his pulse. It had changed from way too slow to the erratic fast heart rate that heralded the fatal arrhythmia. She looked up quickly to see where her nurse was. She found her and beckoned her to come over. The nurse had seen the changes on the monitor and brought over the defibrillator, getting ready for the worst.

Hardy noted the machine as well and started squirming. He looked panicked which didn't help the situation. She needed to calm him down, maybe give him some sedation. She took his hand and placed her other on his shoulder. She leaned closer, finding his eyes again.

"Alec, just focus on my voice. You'll be alright. I need you to take in some deep breaths, try to calm down." His eyes darted to the defibrillator. She gently turned his head. "Look at me, nothing else is going to happen, if you just listen to me. Breath in and out." She could tell he was trying, struggling for composure.

The nurse came close to her, quietly asking, if she wanted something for sedation. Emily nodded, she'd rather make him sleep than have to shock him. She watched the nurse push in the medication. Alec Hardy finally relaxed, his terrified eyes glazing over and eventually closing. And after his heart rate had normalized, she could feel the tension in her ease as well.

* * *

He couldn't breathe. The water was rushing into his mouth and throat, drowning him. He desperately tried to clear his lungs, coughing and sputtering, panic gripping his every fiber. There was a voice, calling his name, trying to pull him away from the river closing in on him. He tried to find the voice, tried to force his eyes open.

The lights were bright and he squinted, moaning. His vision slowly focusing, he recalled where he was. He was panting, struggling to regain his composure. His shirt was sticking to him, soaked in sweat. Somewhere inside him it registered that his heart rate was uncomfortably fast but not skipping any beats. Despite being utterly shaken by the nightmare he just had, he quickly realized he was physically feeling better than before.

"What…" His voice croaked and couldn't finish the sentence.

"Hiya. You're awake. Having a bad dream, ey?" The nurse was putting back the oxygen mask that he had torn off his face. He slowly sat up, not feeling dizzy this time, and swung his legs off the stretcher.

"Oi, what do you think you're doing?" She tried to push him back to lie down but he swatted her hands away. He winced when he pulled off the ECG sticky leads.

"I'm going home. Not staying here," he growled at the nurse.

"We're not discharging you. You're supposed to go to the ICU." She quickly turned off the IV fluids that started spilling after he pulled out the IV from his arm. "Christ, Emily warned me you might try to escape but this is rather drastic, Mr. Hardy. You can't do this."

"Sure I can. Where are the papers I need to sign?" Hardy had no patience. He had no idea how long he had been out after Dr. Abbott had drugged him and he couldn't risk any of his colleagues finding out about his heart condition. For that matter, he couldn't risk Tess to find out. Not now, not after his missing person case had just turned into child murder.

 _Child murder,_ the words echoed through his mind. He froze, his hand hovering over the last ECG sticker to be pulled off his chest. Pippa's bloated pale face was dancing in front of his eyes. He could feel the nausea rising again and he started gagging, covering his mouth with his hand. He tasted bile on his tongue, just at the same time when he noticed the smell of the river on his skin and clothes. He had nothing to overcome the visceral reaction of his body. At least this time, the nurse was fast enough to give him a basin to throw up in.

He was sitting perched at the edge of the stretcher, shivering in the cool air of A&E, panting. He didn't notice. The only thing he was aware of was the smell of his hair, his skin, his clothes – foul, full of decay and rot. He frantically looked around, searching for a way to escape, to run and wash the stench away.

He finally became aware that Dr. Abbott was shouting at him, tugging on his arm.

"Alec! Answer me!" Her face was pale and her eyes were dark. The dreadful young male doctor was standing right next to her, mouth gaping open, eyes wide with fear.

He took in a shuddering breath, pressed the balls of his hands on his eyes. He needed to pull himself together, badly, or she would drug him again and then all hope of getting out of there would be lost. He managed to calm down, focusing on his breathing. And finally he opened his eyes and looked at her, mustering whatever was left in him. This was his only chance of convincing her that he was alright, that she could let him leave.

"Stop shouting. I'm not deaf," he growled at her.

She let out the breath she had been holding. "You could have fooled me."

Pulling off the last remaining ECG sticker, he stood up. "I'm leaving." His back was facing her, avoiding her eyes.

"If you walk out now, you can find yourself another doctor," she hissed at him, scowling.

He turned around slowly, a desperate look on his face. "I'm not staying. I can't. If they find out about my condition, they will take me off the case. And I can't risk that, Emily. You didn't see her…" He shuddered, blinking away the pervasive image of Pippa's dead body. "I have to find whoever did this to that girl." His eyes were wild and pleading.

This time he won the argument. Her features softened. "You have to come see me, once a week at least. And we have to set up those procedures. You can't find the killer, if you're dead." She was firm and he knew there was no bargaining with her. He nodded.

"Where are you gonna go now? Not back to the river?" She was genuinely worried about him, and Hardy felt more than a pang of guilt that he couldn't be a better patient.

"No, not there," he snapped. The stench was still everywhere. "Need to get it off me, the river water," he muttered under his breath.

"So you're going home then?" She sounded relieved. He just looked at her with a blank stare. How could he go home, how could he bring this into his house? To his daughter? He couldn't. She must have read it in his face.

"Alec, don't be alone today. Please, it's not a good idea," she pleaded with him. "Do you even have your medication with you?" She didn't wait for his reply, having guessed the answer. Everything had been lost in the water.

"You, Jackson, go and get these for me." She scribbled something on her prescription pad. "Go on, and try to be fast for a change." Jackson scrambled off.

She caught Hardy rolling his eyes. "He's not a bad guy, you know."

"Right. Not bad at killing his patients while jumping up and down like an overly emotional puppy. Does he wet himself when he gets excited?" She whacked him on the arm. "Oi, I'm going to report you to the medical board, that's abuse." He managed a wry grin.

"Go ahead then, knock yourself out. And I'll have a word with your boss." That wiped the grin of his face.

"You're not going to do that, are you?" He squinted his eyes at her, not sure if she was serious.

She sighed. "No, I won't. Not for now. If you keep your end of the bargain, that is."

He nodded. "I promise. Do you need me to sign the papers that I'm leaving against medical advice?"

"No, I'll discharge you," she replied hesitantly.

He huffed. "Ah, don't be daft. I don't want you to get in trouble. Give me the bloody papers and I'll sign. Have the moron do it, if you want. Gives me another opportunity to make him regret he ever met me."

She chuckled. "Fine. I'll have Jackson do it. Make sure he gives you some pills before you scare him to death." Her pager went off. She looked at it annoyed.

"Go on then. I'll be alright. I'll see you in your office." He leaned against the stretcher, crossing his arms and tilting his head, suggesting for her to leave. Before she walked away she squeezed his shoulder and gave him a small smile. He felt lonely as soon as she had left.

Dr. Jackson came back with the medication and a wad of papers for him to sign. When Hardy was done, he stooped down to be close to the shorter man's ear. He put as much menace in his voice as he could.

"If you even dare to think of telling anyone who asks for me about what happened here today or my heart or anything, I will hunt you down and destroy your career, just as much as you would have destroyed mine. Do you understand?"

The young doctor's boyish face was pale with fear. He nodded vigorously.

"Good. Because I need to be sure about this." Hardy's eyes bore through him, not leaving any doubt about the threat.

Dr. Jackson swallowed. His voice was squeaky. "I won't. Never."

Hardy left without even looking back, strides long and deliberate. The rain was still coming down when he got outside. He felt it trickling down his face, body and hands. He stood there for a while, struggling to numb himself against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to believe he was succeeding but he knew he wasn't. Finally he slowly walked away, the rain swallowing his tall and lonely figure.


	5. CHAPTER 4

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for reading, following and commenting. Part of this chapter will follow Tess' short story but this time we see Alec's perspective. So some of the dialogue is based on that and so is the overall flow of action for that part of the chapter. The end is mine. I hope you like seeing the other side and feel it works with the story. It's a shorter chapter, but I hope it won't feel like it.

* * *

CHAPTER 4

The rain was soaking through Hardy's clothes that had barely dried. His long strides took him quickly to the police station which was close to the hospital. He walked in through the parking garage, trying to avoid bumping into people. He slowly climbed the stairs, catching his breath on each landing. He cracked open the heavy door to the floor with the locker rooms. It was early evening by now, and mercifully few people were around. He peered through the slit and waited until no one was in the hallway. He hurried to the locker room. Again, he peered through the door and was grateful to find it empty.

He grabbed a towel from the rack and found the track suits that the station stocked for when victims, suspects or staff had to give up their clothes for evidence – a T-shirt, sweater, jogging pants, nothing else. There was one private shower and he couldn't get in fast enough. He peeled off his soiled clothes, leaving them in a heap outside the stall. The pressure of the water was nothing like at home, but it was hot and steamed up the small space quickly enough. He lifted his face towards the water and let it run over his cheeks, nose, forehead, eyes firmly closed until he couldn't suppress Pippa's image any longer.

He hit the tiles with his flat hands, head drooping down between his shoulders. His arms folded over his head, long fingers twitching, water running off of them. He sank against the wall, his torso shaking with silent sobs and slowly slid down until he sat under the hot stream, legs pulled up to his chest. His head was resting on his knees, arms still folded over his wet hair. His tears were mixed with the water, washing them away, but not taking away the anguish that was burning inside him.

Hardy had no idea how long he had been sitting in the shower. Eventually, there were no more tears and anguish was replaced with hollowness. He clambered to his feet, stiff from being folded up for so long. He reached for the soap and started scrubbing himself. He rubbed his face, his hair and every square inch of his skin until he was red and raw and finally the stench of the river had disappeared. The gentle stream of water rinsed away the last bits of foam and he knew there was nothing more he could do to feel clean.

He turned the shower off, the last drops dripping of his body. It was cold in the locker room, but nothing could make him feel as cold as he had felt earlier today after hauling himself out of the river. He dried himself off and put on the police track suit. He put his filthy clothes in a bag. In an afterthought he opened the bag again and went through all his pockets, retrieving anything valuable. He found his car keys and the pills they had given him at the hospital, but not his wallet. His phone was dead. He stuffed everything into the track suit and closed the bag again. He scrubbed his hands for a while to get rid of the smell again. He didn't dare look in the mirror at the sink, fearing what would look back at him.

Nobody noted him quietly making his way back on the staircase to the parking garage. He found his car and got in. He stared at the steering wheel. He should go home, Tess might get worried. His phone was destroyed by the water so he had no way of getting a hold of her. And nobody could get a hold off him. He started the engine and drove off in the night, anywhere else but home.

* * *

Hardy hit the motorway, probably driving too fast for the condition of the road and his state of mind. It was still raining. The lights of the other cars blurred while he was passing by them, a never ending stream of red and white. He hoped his mind could zone out as it often did when he went driving. Not today though. Pippa's face clawed its way into the forefront of his thoughts, over and over again until he finally gave in and didn't try to fight it anymore. She was there with him, riding through the night, haunting him like a ghost.

The hollowness inside him slowly was filled with a burning anger. A disgusted rage over the inhumane nature of the crime he had uncovered. Who would kill a child? A child the same age as his daughter, as lively and wonderful as Daisy. His breathing was getting heavy and there was a tugging in his chest.

 _Stop it, Hardy._ It wasn't Daisy. She was home, safe and sound. He desperately tried to separate the two girls, but it was so hard. He was very much aware that he wouldn't be able to find Pippa's killer, if he couldn't regain his emotional detachment, if he were to let it cloud his judgement.

He had no idea, if his team had spoken to the parents yet. He usually preferred to bear the grave news himself, observing the reaction of family members, but this time he shuddered at the thought of having to face them. How do you explain that someone murdered your child and then left her to rot in the river? Who would so such a thing?

He was gripping the wheel tightly, knuckles turning white, preventing his hands from trembling. His whole body was aching from the exertion earlier. His arms felt heavy, but it wasn't from physical exhaustion. Her body was still dragging them down, pulling, weighing on them. Her limp figure was draped over his arms, long hair flowing to the ground, water dripping of her face. Daisy's face.

The car swerved, horns of the other drivers blaring by. He struggled to gain control and get back into the lane. His heart jolted in his chest, immediately followed by an erratic and fast heartbeat. The lights around him started spinning and he hardly knew where he was going. It was by sheer luck that he was able to pullover on the emergency lane and stop the car. He was sucking in air, barely able to form a clear thought.

 _Pills._ Where were those damned pills? He fumbled through the pockets of the track suit, trembling fingers struggling to pop the medication out of the blister pack. He dropped one of them, groaning with frustration. The other one found its way into his mouth. He took in a few more rugged breaths and managed to swallow the second one. His chest was heaving, feeling emptier and emptier. And then the black closed in on him.

* * *

Somebody was knocking on his window. He groggily opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings. A muffled voice filtered through the window.

"Hey, are you okay? Do you need help?" It was a woman, young, hair plastered down by the rain. Her face lit up intermittently by the orange glow of the blinking emergency lights of her car parked ahead.

He pulled himself up in the seat. The safety belt had prevented him from slumping over entirely. His chest was still aching, but his heart beat was steady, at least for now. Surprisingly, the car was still running and he opened the window.

"Hey, are you okay?" the woman asked again. "Do you need me to call an ambulance? Did you pass out while driving?" She sounded genuinely concerned.

Hardy's foggy brain was refusing to think fast. He couldn't allow her to call an ambulance, they would let the police know as well and he would never get the chance to apprehend whoever did this.

"'M fine. Fell asleep and lost control of the car. Banged my head, I think." He rubbed the back of his hair, indicating the impact. He tried a smile and hoped he was convincing enough.

She frowned at him. "You're sure? You seemed completely knocked out. I was a few cars behind, saw you take a dive for the emergency lane. Thought I should check on you."

"Thank you." He smiled again, this time he meant it. She still seemed hesitant. "Really, I'm okay. Just tired, long day today. Should get home to my family." This wasn't even a lie, he really should. He had been unaccounted for for hours now and they would be worried.

She gave him one last scrutinizing look. "Alright, drive safely then. Try to stay awake this time."

"I will. Thank you again. Not everyone would have stopped." He was sincere. She smiled at him, shrugged and sprinted back to her car, through the rain.

Hardy felt oddly touched by the concern of this total stranger. The open display of kindness reminded him that human nature wasn't all vile and it soothed his desolation. He took a deep breath of the cold air and rolled up the window. He was still shaky, when he pulled out of the emergency lane. He wasn't sure if he was ready to go home, but the worry of either crashing or harming someone else won over his reluctance to bring home Pippa's ghost. There was no escape from her haunting features and the longer he was putting off facing Tess and Daisy, the more the anxiety would build.

* * *

It was nearing 10 pm when he pulled up in his driveway. The rain had stopped. The lights were on inside the house. He wondered, if Daisy might still be awake, he hadn't really seen her since the night of the wedding. He slowly climbed out of the car, grabbing the bag with his soiled clothes.

When he opened the door, Tess was waiting for him in the hall. Her face was a canvas of her feelings and anger quickly changed to worry and shock. He didn't want to picture how miserable he must look. His hair plastered to his head, the drab police track suit, too short for his long legs, his ankles bare with no socks. Tess took a step closer, opening her arms to offer a hug.

Hardy wanted that hug so badly. He had been missing her closeness and warmth so much these past days and weeks. But all he could feel was the river water on him and he couldn't bear the thought of her being tainted by it. Unconsciously he crossed his arms and shook his head, silently, the 'no' in his mind an echo of his need to protect her. There was a flicker of disappointment, followed by something else on her face. Hardy couldn't place the expression, but it left him feeling even more unsettled.

"Where've you been?" There was a distinct lack of concern in her voice and Hardy very much was reminded of being in the interrogation room with her, a sure sign that she was upset. Over the years he had learned that the trained behavior took over when she wasn't sure of her own emotions. He felt remorseful that he hadn't let her know where he was. If the shoe had been on the other foot, he would have been frantic.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. He couldn't look at her, guilt overwhelming him.

"Driving," he barely managed to say. His first word to her in more than a day.

"Oh, Alec. What about your clothes?" Her face softened and he could tell she felt sorry for him. Why she would ask him that, he had no idea. Maybe it was the safest question. He nodded at the bag on the doorstep, filled with the ruined suit. He left it there, when he walked by her into the house. He didn't touch her, still not able to contaminate anything in his home with what had happened.

He went into the kitchen and slumped down on a chair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tess placed a glass of wine in front of him. Idly he noted that it was the last in the bottle. She must have been drinking while she waited for him. He stared blankly at the dark red liquid, unfocused. He didn't dare to blink for fear of seeing Pippa's face.

And as if Tess read his thoughts, she softly said, "I saw her in the mortuary. It must have been awful for you."

There it was. The acknowledgement that she knew, knew what happened on this day, knew what he brought home with him. He couldn't move a muscle, paralyzed by the weight of Pippa's body dragging him down into a darkness he could lose himself in. Her hand on his shoulder reminded him of Pippa bumping him in the water. He shrugged it off and got up.

"I'm going to check on Daisy." His need to see his child safe and sound was all encompassing. Maybe once he saw her, he would be able to finally feel at home and leave the river behind.

He slowly climbed up the stairs, drained from the earlier exertion. He was standing at her doorstep for a while, Tess close by, not saying anything. Daisy was sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly open, hair flowing all over the pillow, just like she had the night prior when he came to give her a kiss. His hands felt tingly, and he his heart was struggling to beat in his chest, long pauses between each thud. His vision blurred, images from the river mixing with Daisy's face. His arms ached, a body's weight pulling on them, but it wasn't Pippa, it was Daisy who he was dragging out of the car, limp in his arms.

Panic was washing through him, his heart all of sudden jolted from too slow to too fast. "Is she breathing?" His strained voice had pitch shifted an octave up.

"I can't see her moving." He bolted into the room, kneeling next to the bed, grabbing her by the shoulders. "She's not moving!" He was shouting, all reason lost.

"Alec, stop it!" Tess whispered, but it was too late already. Hardy had shaken his daughter awake.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Her eyes grew wide in her confusion. He was screaming inside, trying to pull himself together, but he couldn't. He pulled her close, embracing her with his aching arms, trying to make the feeling of Pippa's body go away. He buried his face in her neck, taking in her scent of flowers and honey, drowning out the river stench. He felt Daisy squirm in his arms. He was vaguely aware of Tess grabbing him, trying to pry him off his daughter, but he couldn't let her go, never.

It wasn't until Tess chocked him with the collar of the track suit that he came to his senses. _God,_ what was he doing? He looked into Daisy's confused and scared face.

" _Out!"_ Tess growled at him.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," he pleaded for Daisy's forgiveness, walking backwards to the door. "I just needed to make sure you're okay."

He stumbled down the stairs, until his legs just gave out under him. The wall was the only thing preventing him from collapsing onto the floor. Shaking, he slid down to the ground, leaning back. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them, trying desperately to find comfort and an end to the emotional turmoil. Pippa had followed him home and he had nothing to fight it off. Tears were stinging his eyes when Tess came down the stairs. She didn't say anything when she sat down next to him.

"I can still see her face," he said tonelessly. He held out his arms, elbows bent, palms up, as if he was carrying something. "I can still feel the weight of her." His voice was barely audible. Tess pulled him to her chest, despite him resisting for a brief moment. Something broke inside him, all walls falling away, and he slumped against her warm body, crying into her neck uncontrollably. Her hands came around his shoulders, rubbing his back until the tension eased.

When Tess moved under him, Hardy's anguish had diminished enough to be coherent again. And one thought was burning through his mind. He had to find whoever was capable of doing such a thing to a child. If it was the last thing he'd do, so be it. There would be no relent, no letting go.

There was a cold edge to his voice, when he finally spoke, still leaning against Tess' chest. "We're no longer dealing with a missing person inquiry. We know where we stand now. We'll get this."

Determination taking over, he jumped up. "We know _who_ we're dealing with. A monster, who can leave a child to rot in a river." A welcome restlessness that drove him during cases replaced the fatigue. He started pacing in front of Tess who was still sitting on the floor, watching him with big blue eyes, a mixture of admiration and excitement on her face.

And more confident, he added, "This is what we trained for, isn't it? To get justice for families like this."

He turned to his wife, holding out his hand, pulling her up. There was a glow on her face, he hadn't seen in a while and he could tell that she was with him, that she wanted to solve this case as badly as he did. He pulled her into another hug, now quietly talking into her hair. "These parents deserve to face the person who did this to them, and I swear, I will make that happen, because it's the only thing I can do for them. No matter what the cost, evil will not win. Not this time."

She looked up at him, her eyes glittering. "You're a good man, Alec."

Leaning against each other, they stood for a long time, until they finally went to bed together.


	6. CHAPTER 5

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. It's the morning after the day that changed Alec Hardy's life forever. The calm after the storm… also, we'll get Baxter's POV for the first time. Exciting (at least to me). Hope you'll like it.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 5**

Hardy woke up before sunrise. The room was dark. Tess had monopolized the blanket, leaving him shivering in the cold April morning. He was briefly tempted to snuggle up against her warm body, but a glance at the clock woke him up completely. By the time he would fall back asleep, it would already be time to get up. He ran his hands down his face and rolled out of the bed. They had a long day ahead of them, might as well get a decent breakfast.

He padded down to the kitchen, briefly peeking into Daisy's room. She was tangled in her blanket, only hair visible. The guilt was almost overwhelming him. He had scared her last night, not being able to control his emotions. The river threatened to come back and he fought off the image of Pippa's face. He hurried down the stairs and turned on the lights. It helped to keep the ghost away.

The water had just boiled and he was cooking some porridge, when Daisy sleepily walked into the kitchen. She squinted at the light, slumping on the chair. He put a cup of tea in front of her, avoiding looking at her. He busied himself at the stove, awkward silence turning uncomfortable.

"Dad, are we going to talk about it or are you just going to keep staring at the porridge? It really doesn't need all that attention, you know." Impatience was dripping off of her.

He didn't turn around, still stirring in the pot. "I'm so sorry, darlin'. That I frightened you. I…"

"It's okay, Dad," she interrupted. "You were so upset though. Were you crying?" He didn't answer, not trusting his voice.

Her light touch on his back startled him. "Dad, what's going on? You're scaring me."

He turned around and looked at her. He tried to smile but failed. Daisy threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his body.

"Oh, Dad. Please don't be so sad. I don't like seeing you like this." Her voice was muffled against his chest. He hugged her back, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

"Shhhh, don't cry, darlin'," he whispered in her hair.

"Did you find her?" A simple question.

"What?" His voice was sharp. Tess wouldn't have told her. They never talked about the details of their homicide cases with her, even if it was all over the papers or news. But Daisy had been asking about the missing girls.

"Did you find Pippa?" Her hazel eyes were wide and fearful.

He had to sit down. How could he answer that question? He tightly held on to his mug, hiding his trembling hands. He beckoned her to sit next to him.

"Your mother said you didn't know Pippa." She shook her head, looking at him intently. He swallowed a few times before he could continue. He couldn't lie, not with seeing Pippa's face every time he closed his eyes.

"Daisy, I… we found her yesterday. She…," he trailed off, lacking the words to tell his daughter that the other girl had died.

"Is she dead?" Daisy quietly asked. He nodded. There were silent tears running down her cheeks. His heart was filled with sorrow. It hurt to see his daughter so distraught. He took her hand, feeling not equipped to deal with comforting her over the death of this girl she didn't even know.

"Are you and Mum going to find who did this to her?" It wasn't just a question, it was a plea, fueled by fear and anger alike.

Their eyes locked. "Yes, darlin'. I promise you, we will." His voice that he wasn't trusting before, was strong now and full of conviction.

"Good," was all that she said. They sat in silence, holding each other's hands until the burning porridge set off the smoke detector.

Hardy jumped up. "Ach, for God's sake." He burned himself when he pulled the pot of the stove. He quickly climbed on the chair to reset the alarm, while Daisy opened the window. He was shaking his aching fingers, when Daisy dragged him over to the sink. She stuck his hand under the ice cold water. He flinched, trying to pull away.

"Oi, Dad. Leave it there, it needs to stay under the water for at least 10 minutes." Daisy's face was stern. He squirmed and her eyes bore into his.

"Please, Dad, let me take care of you. You're rubbish at that." She was pleading and Hardy gave in.

She didn't look at him when she quietly said, "Dad, you promised me to talk to someone if things are bothering you, remember?"

He did remember. It was when they were driving to the wedding and he had lied to her about his heart condition. She had made him promise to not keep things to himself.

"Aye, I do, darlin'," he softly replied. "Please, don't worry so much about me. 'M fine." He smiled, but he couldn't make it reach his eyes.

"No, Dad. You're not fine. You were not last night and you're not now. I'm your kid but I'm not an idiot. I can see it in your eyes, when you talk about Pippa. You've never been this upset."

She let go of his hand and turned around to face him, her eyes full of love and concern. It warmed his heart to know how much she cared and at the same time it was also aching for the sorrow he had caused her.

"Please don't shut us out, Dad. You always tell me, I can come to you with anything. I know I'm not a grown up, but I love you and I'm there for you if you need me. You don't have to be alone in this, but if you don't share, we can't be with you."

Hardy only nodded, his throat chocked up, not able to say anything. He pulled Daisy into a gentle embrace. Eventually, he breathed a _"Thank you"_ in her hair, possibly the most sincere 'Thank you' he had ever uttered in his life.

* * *

He dropped Daisy off at school. He had urged her to not talk about anything with her classmates as the police hadn't released a statement yet. He was proud to see that she understood and knew he could trust her. To his surprise Daisy asked him to drop her off at the gate instead of a block further down. She handed him his lunch box.

"Don't forget to eat, Dad. You look too skinny." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in front of everyone, something she hadn't done in quite a while now. He watched her run inside, smiling and hugging her friends, desperately trying to capture the happy image in his mind.

Tess had been angry at him for telling her, but what could he have done? There were already too many lies in his life. And she would have found out soon enough anyways. He dreaded the thought of having to make the official statement to the press, almost seeing the smug face of that White woman in front of him. He had no doubt that she would be there to show off her brilliant insight into police work.

It took him longer than most days to get from the school to the station. He felt groggy and didn't trust himself to be quick enough for his usual driving style. After last night, maybe there was something to what the doctors had told him about not getting behind the wheel. He quickly shoved the thought aside, he had been upset. As long as he was calm, there was no reason to get alarmed.

 _Right._ He almost convinced himself.

The wait at the elevator turned into an eternity and the temptation to take the stairs was growing. He was running late for the morning briefing. When it eventually came, he dashed through the doors, earning himself a few muttered curses. He barged into the CID office, ready to give his team hell. Maybe that wasn't the best approach, but he sure was going to set fire under them, knowing how much work lay ahead of them. Not only was there a dead child, but they still had another missing.

He never made it to the meeting because as soon as he opened the door to the incident room, he heard his name being called. All eyes turned to him and his face heated up instantaneously.

Baxter's booming voice echoed through the room. "Do I have to say it twice? Hardy, in my office, now!"

He trudged over to his boss' door and slammed it shut behind him. He hated being summoned like a school boy. And he knew that Baxter was very much aware of this as well. He threw him a piercing stare and then began pacing up and down in front of the desk.

"You look like a tiger in a cage." Baxter's heavy hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him from moving about. He shrugged it off and resumed the holding pattern, short quick steps back and forth.

"I'm late for the briefing. What do you want?" Hardy's gruffness was nothing but a mask to hide the tension inside. He dreaded the inevitable conversation with his boss about what happened the day before.

"I'm not talking to you while you're running a marathon. Makes me dizzy just looking at you."

Hardy threw a sideways glance at his boss, who had sat down behind his desk. Judging from the frown on his face, he was in no mood to indulge his DI's temper this morning. He stopped and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is this when you're going to ask if I'm physically fit to do my work?"

Baxter's eyebrow rose. "I'm not so sure if your ability to do your job is only hampered by physical ailments at this point. What the hell where you thinking jumping into that river?" His voice was calm, but the contained anger behind it was unmistakable.

Hardy was silent.

"Answer me!" Baxter's barked at him. "Because if you can't give me a satisfying explanation I'm taking you of this case right now. This kind of reckless behavior is what gets you and your team into trouble and I have no - and I repeat - absolutely no tolerance for shit like this." His face had turned red and his grey-blue eyes were stormy with anger.

Hardy shrank under the onslaught. He ducked his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, not looking at his boss.

"Sit down! I'm tired of staring up at your tight-lipped sorry face." Baxter had calmed down some.

Hardy plopped into a chair, leaning forward, clasped hands dangling between his legs. He still didn't look up. Remembering Daisy's words, he decided to be open with his friend. Barely audible, he put forth the thought his mind returned to over and over again.

"Who would leave a child like that? Rotting in the river." He shook his head, covering his face with his palms. "I couldn't leave her there. I… I thought maybe I could still do something to save her." His voice broke up. He took in a deep breath to regain composure. And although he was talking to his friend, he was able to give his boss what he needed to hear.

"I know I shouldn't have done that, jumped in the water." His eyes were still covered by his hands and Pippa's face danced in front of him. There was a tremble in his voice, he couldn't hide.

"Believe me, there is no need for disciplinary actions, got a stark reminder not to do such a thing again." The memory of Pippa's body bumping him and the fright of the moment when he turned around was so strong, he cringed involuntarily.

He hadn't noted Baxter come around his desk, until he felt his hand on his shoulder. "Do you need to talk to someone about it?" he asked quietly.

Hardy's head jerked up. He found his friend's eyes. There was nothing but true concern in them.

He took in another deep breath and let it out slowly, pretending to think about his answer. "No. I don't think so. I'll be alright."

Baxter frowned at him, clearly not buying it. "Bullshit. I know you. I've never seen you shaken up like this. I need to be sure, you can handle it. I can't let you lead this investigation if you're not up for it, mentally and physically. I'm your friend, Alec, and as such I'm worried for your well-being. And I know it would devastate you, if I took you of the case. But I'm also your boss and responsible for what's going on in CID and I can't have a loose cannon running around. You either get yourself together – and if you need help with that, there's no shame in it – or you're out. Have I made myself clear?"

Hardy nodded. He didn't expect less from his boss and from himself for the matter. There was no room for error in a murder investigation and certainly not in this one. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself, if anything he did was to jeopardize apprehending the responsible party and getting them convicted.

"Did they clear you to work after you almost drowned your sorry arse?" Baxter tried to make it sound lightly, but Hardy knew him better than that.

There was no use in denying the obvious as Baxter could easily have his medical record pulled and then his game would be over. He hoped to be able to get away with a half-truth and put him off his scent.

"Erm. I… I kinda signed myself out. They wanted to observe me, but I just wanted to go home. Really don't like hospitals." He gave him a sheepish look, hoping to look miserable enough to stir him away from what really happened.

"Jesus, Hardy. You're unbelievable," Baxter huffed. He studied Hardy for a bit and then rolled his eyes. "Fine. Go and get fire under your team. Don't make me regret this, do you hear me?"

Hardy nodded again. "Aye, sir" He got up. His hand already on the door handle, he hesitated. "Thank you for having my back, Ed. I promise you won't regret it." This time he closed the door gently.

* * *

Baxter waited a moment before he followed his DI to attend the morning briefing. Alec Hardy worried him. He had worried him for a while now and although the conversation he just had was reassuring that the man would pull himself together, there was a nagging sensation he was missing something.

Hardy had been his friend for many years now, going all the way back to when he first made him DI. His instincts had been right and he had witnessed Hardy growing in his new role. As an astute observer with sharp wit and intuition, he was a rather brilliant detective. His temper though had been hard to reign in and many times Baxter couldn't find enough curse words to describe his feelings about his DI.

The man was passionate and with that came a certain unruliness. He had no tolerance for mediocrity and it was hard for most of his colleagues to live up to his high moral standards and work ethics. He would always be the first to come, the last to go home when working a case, driving his team and more so himself to the limits. There was an air of recklessness and impulsiveness about him.

Like when he jumped into a river that had turned into a gushing stream by a spring downpour, and almost drowned. To save a dead girl. He understood why Hardy did it though. The man had a daughter the same age. Baxter had seen the horror in Hardy's eyes. He reminded himself to go back to Hardy's file and find out if this was his DI's first child murder case. If so, it might become a problem, especially as lately Hardy seemed to have a tougher time to not let the cases get to him. Female victims always were hard on the younger man and they had had serious conversations about it, leaving Baxter every time assured that Hardy had control over his emotions and his judgement would not be clouded. This time though, he wasn't so sure. He would have to watch him carefully, ready to support him if needed. After all, he was the best man for the job.

Baxter made his way over to hover at the back of the crowd settling in for the morning briefing. Hardy jumped right into it, not wasting any time with 'good morning' and 'how are you'. Baxter sighed. He often wondered, if Hardy would make a good successor, but then he did have the social skills of a hermit crab raised in solitary confinement. He was abrupt and seemingly never even heard of the term diplomacy. When Baxter first met Hardy, it didn't take him long to figure out that under all the gruffness there was a kind and compassionate man hiding. You only had to see him with his child once, and it was more than obvious.

One thing that Hardy had going for him though when it came to leading was his loyalty to the people he worked with. He always took responsibility for the mishaps that happened under his watch, even if it was clearly not his fault. Failure and mistakes were never blamed on one individual and successes were celebrated as a team. That didn't mean he didn't give out rather vicious bollockings and lose his temper with his subordinates, however he would never rat anyone out to his superiors.

He irritated people, but still they respected him for what he was and his restless energy when working a case was infectious. Baxter was watching the crowd, which was hanging on Hardy's lips, following his every word.

"Pippa Gillespie's body was found in the river Sandbrook at approximately 1300 yesterday." His Scottish accent was rough. Hardy didn't let on at all about the circumstances. Baxter had to give him credit for that. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who not even ten minutes ago seemed to barely be able to keep it together.

"Do we have the preliminary autopsy report yet?" He scanned the silent crowd. His hands went to his hips, a sure sign of rising impatience. Finally PC Jensen dared to answer.

"They're on your desk, sir." Hardy just stared at him blankly. His ears were pink.

Baxter's lips curled up to a smirk. _Touché, Hardy._

"Oi, that's rather brilliant that they're on my desk. Excellent use of my work space. Congratulations to whoever put them there. So, did anyone actually read them then and care to fill me in?" He spat out his words.

Baxter's smirk grew wider. He had to admit he enjoyed watching the back and forth way too much. It was like a cat and mouse game. Hardy usually won.

Dave Thompson took the plunge. "Yes, sir. The pathologists believes the body must have been in the water for two to three days. No large wounds were found, however smaller wounds might not be able to be ascertained due to the time spent in the water. There were no ligature marks. She thought from the gross anatomy of the lungs that the girl did not die in the water or drown. She was pretty certain that she was already deceased when the perpetrator put her in the river."

Hardy's eyes had glazed over and he was staring blankly ahead. Baxter frowned, wondering what horrid images might be floating through his DI's mind. Finding a victim in the water was always challenging as it disfigured the body so much, but dragging the corpse out all by yourself, was a different ball game. Hardy couldn't quite hide the impact it had had on him, but he sure tried.

A brief moment passed, and Hardy blinked, sucked in a deep breath. He was pale. It was eerily quiet in the room. Everyone present had either been there or heard of their boss' deed. Some had seen the body. After another few breaths, the color returned to Hardy's face and he moved on as if nothing had happened.

"Right, what about toxicology then?" Hardy turned to the whiteboard, starting to scribble things down.

"Not yet, but they are not very hopeful to get useful information due to the degree of decomposition," Thompson concluded his report.

It might have been only Baxter who noted Hardy flinch ever so slightly when the DS mentioned decomposition. Baxter's eyes flicked over to where Tess was standing. No, he corrected himself, it had not escaped Hardy's wife either. He had no idea, if the couple had made up over their disputes but he sure hoped for Hardy's sake that they had and Tess was going to be able to support her husband in this.

"What about forensics?" Hardy didn't wait for someone to answer. "Thompson, you worked the scene, what'd they find?"

"Unfortunately not much due to the heavy rain. They are still at the site." Thompson looked defeated.

Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. When he looked up, there was a fierce determination in his eyes, his body tense with energy. Baxter was almost expecting him to resume his relentless pacing. He saw several people straighten themselves up in their chairs, getting ready for what sure was to come.

"So, how did she get there then? How far from her home is the site? How long might she have been dead before being placed in the river? And if she didn't die there, where is the murder scene? Have we been back at the Gillespie's house? Have we identified all the fingerprints? Where's SOCO at? Have we found any clues as to where Lisa Newbery might be? What about her cell phone trace? And most importantly, is she dead or still alive?"

Hardy finally finished his list of questions. He glared at his team, catching sight of his wife shaking her head. His ears turned red. Baxter hid a grin. At least, he wasn't the only one telling Hardy off about this annoying habit of his to use his team as bouncing board for his own thoughts.

Hardy rubbed the back of his head and cleared his throat. He was tapping the marker on his leg. He smoothly and efficiently went through his plan.

"I want SOCO to split up for now. The team that had been working the Gillespie house previously needs to go back and sweep the house again, no stones unturned. DS Henchard is responsible for organizing the enhancement crews which hopefully will come in by the end of the day." Hardy briefly glanced at his boss, and although they hadn't discussed it, Baxter nodded his approval.

"We'll ask for additional staff for CID as well. DS Thompson will oversee the site at the river. For those of you who don't need to be at the crime scenes, you will review all CCTV footage again as well as the house to house statements. After we've made a statement to the press I'll expect the phone lines to be manned. No word leaks out of this room, is that understood?"

Baxter frowned. They hadn't talked about the press yet. He knew how anxious Hardy was in dealing with journalists. He would have to have a word with him.

"Did anyone tell the parents of either girl yet?" Hardy's voice had softened.

Again it was Thompson who provided the information. "No. We have not." He hesitated, uncomfortable with his next words. "We assumed that you probably wanted to be there, when we break the news, sir. And after they took you to the hospital…" He trailed off under Hardy's death stare. Baxter had to give the man credit that he didn't flinch although he paled a bit.

Baxter intently looked at Hardy, curious to see how he was going to talk himself out of the fact that he jumped into a river, ignoring all police standards and nearly drowned in the process.

Hardy's face was impassive, not betraying any emotion. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the only sign of his unease. His voice carried through the room, Scottish lilt underlying his measured words.

"A drowned child in a river is an awful thing and heart breaking for the families on any day. What happened to Pippa Gillespie though is different. Someone murdered that child and then left her in the water to rot. Alone, to not be found, no solace for the parents. It's certainly one of the most horrid things I could think of. We all will need to deal with that."

He took in a deep breath and made a point of looking his team in the eyes.

"It's our task to find whoever did this. It's not only our task, it's our duty. To the family, to this town and to ourselves as the people who chose to stand between such heinous criminals and those who need protection. It's not only our task, it's also a privilege that was given to us, to be the ones to make sure that the victims and families will get justice."

He had underlined every point with a beat of his long fingers on the white board. At last his hand rested next to Pippa's picture.

"I've worked with most of you for several years. I know what this team can do and I have trust and confidence in every one of you. We will find the responsible party, without a doubt. We will bring justice and closure for the families and everyone else."

Nobody said a word or moved. Even Baxter was rather astounded. He couldn't think of any other occasion that Hardy had given a speech that was more than a handful of sentences long. After a few moments when nobody seemed to know how to react, reality kicked in when Hardy barked his usual closing line at his team.

"Go on then, back to what you were doing."

He vaguely waved his hand at them. People scrambled and the normal buzz of the incident room resumed. Hardy and Baxter locked eyes across the room. Baxter nodded and mouthed _'good man'_. Hardy blushed and Baxter smiled. He wouldn't have a reason to regret, not with Alec Hardy at the top of his game. He sure hoped though his earlier worries were unfounded.


	7. CHAPTER 6

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. Real life has been busy, so sorry for the later than usual update. To make up for it, the chapter is on the longer side. Alec is busy detecting... hope you enjoy DI Hardy. Amongst others we meet Lisa's mother who I always felt was oddly absent in the show. Happy 4th to all the US readers!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 6**

Hardy wasn't sure if he had hit the right tone in the briefing, pep talks were not exactly his forte. Everything he had said came straight from his heart. Baxter seemed to think he did a decent job, so that was reassuring. He hurried to his office and closed the door. He didn't trust his abilities to hide his emotions for the task ahead and he didn't want any witnesses.

He sat down behind his desk and stared at the file in front of him. He pulled it closer without opening it. He dreaded having to review the autopsy report in detail, reading the formal language that would deny humanity to the victim, turning it into an object. And then there were all the photographs. More images to blend with the already ever present ghost of Pippa Gillespie.

He balled his hands into fists and took a deep breath. He opened the file with one swift motion before he could lose courage. The pictures of the body were right on top of the report. The nausea was immediate and he had to cover his mouth with his hand, gagging, desperately trying to hold back the bile. He sucked in air through his nose and was able to settle down. His fingers were trembling when he moved the photographs to the side. He didn't turn them over though. If he wanted to solve this case, he needed to be able to face his demons and not run away. He began reading the preliminary report. The plain but familiar language helped to regain his professional detachment, and once he reached the end, he was calm.

The report didn't add more to what Thompson had talked about in the meeting. They would have to wait for the final. One thing seemed clear though, the child did not drown. He felt an odd sense of relief over the fact, not sure if it was related to his own recent experience in the water. He shook off the looming panic of the memory and got up to grab his coat. It was time to go and talk to the families.

* * *

SOCO was already back at the house. As soon as Hardy stepped through the door, he was accosted by Ricky Gillespie.

"What the hell do you think you people are doing here? Haven't you harassed as enough already? Cate is beside herself." He was blocking Hardy's way, feet planted firmly on the ground, arms crossed, wearing a scowl on his face.

Hardy's voice was level, not without sympathy. "Ricky, I need to talk to you and your wife. We have some news to share. Is there anywhere we can sit?"

Ricky paled. His body lost the tension, his square shoulders dropping. A man expecting the worst, Hardy thought. Or already knowing what was to come. Something in Hardy resented the last notion, however just because he was the father didn't exclude him from being a suspect. Not yet. Ricky had led him into the living room where Cate was slumped on the sofa. There was another glass of wine in front of her. It wasn't even noon yet. Hardy couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Tess who was overseeing the site had joined him and he was grateful to have her there. Together they would be able to see more. They sat down opposite of the family. Hardy braced himself for what was to come. He had done this many times, and it shouldn't be any different. But it was.

"We found the body of a teenaged girl that we believe is Pippa's." There was no way one could make that message less jarring, less traumatizing.

Cate's hands went to her mouth, only a whimper escaping her. Ricky stiffened and put an arm around his wife. His face grew even paler. He swallowed hard.

"What makes you think it's Pippa?" His voice was rough.

"The physical characteristics, hair, clothes, age… they all match Pippa. The final identification by the forensics team is still pending, but we are sure it's her. I'm very sorry."

"Can we see her?" Cate was barely audible.

Hardy tensed up and he could tell Tess was doing the same next to him. How was he going to explain to this mother that her beautiful child wasn't anything like she used to be anymore?

"Cate, I don't think it's a good idea." He was trying to buy time. It didn't work.

"Why not? Are you lot hiding something?" Ricky was immediately on the offense again.

"No, we're not. I…," he caught himself in time not to reveal the gruesome circumstances of Pippa's discovery. "We found her in the river, Ricky. The water was not kind to her body and it might be best to remember her as she was."

Hardy knew this was rather blunt, but what else was he going to say. There was no pretty way to put it. His gaze flicked over to Tess. Her face was pulled into a frown, a clear sign she didn't approve of his choice of words.

Cate's quivering question broke the tension. "Did she drown then? Was it an accident?" Tears were flowing down her cheeks and her body was shaking.

"We are treating her death as suspicious." The police euphemism for 'your loved one was murdered'. Hardy never liked the phrase but it was part of standard procedure and allowed for not revealing too many facts before being able to question the family.

"You mean she was killed?" Cate was bordering on hysteria.

"We are still waiting for the final autopsy report, but it's a strong possibility." Hardy had to put all effort in keeping his own voice level. Watching this mother wailing over the death of her child was probably one of the toughest moments of his career. He ignored the sudden irregularity of his heart beat, trying to surreptitiously take in some calming breaths.

"We will have to go through your house again to see if we find any further evidence. If there is anything you can think of even it doesn't seem to be relevant, please let us know immediately." Hardy was relying on routine to settle him down. It helped somewhat.

"How long has she been…?" Cate couldn't bring herself to say the word.

"We believe she probably died the night she disappeared. But as I said, we are still waiting for the final report. We will keep you updated when we find out more."

Hardy paused, taking in the parents again. Cate was now crying silently, clearly broken by the news. Ricky was harder to read. There was anger and also sorrow, but it didn't seem as raw and fresh as Cate's. He would have to ask Tess about her impression.

"If you don't mind, I would like to take a look at her room." He didn't really need their permission, but felt more comfortable to ask about this invasion of their privacy.

Cate just nodded, eyes unfocused, wet with tears.

"Do what you have to do. It's upstairs to the left." Ricky was trying to be matter of fact.

Hardy stood up quickly and left them behind, relieved that he could move on. He made it almost out of the room before a sudden bout of lightheadedness had him stop. He carefully placed his hand on the door handle to steady himself without drawing too much attention to it. His other hand was feeling for his pills in his coat pocket. He grasped the packet tightly, cutting his palm with the sharp plastic. The pain helped to clear his head. By the time he slowly made his way upstairs he felt better.

* * *

He put on gloves and booties to cover his shoes. SOCO had already fine combed the room when the girls went missing. All he wanted was to get an impression about who Pippa had been. Before entering, he let his eyes trail over the walls, bed, desk, dresser, and shelves. It could have been Daisy's room. There were posters of some teenage pop idol he had no clue who it was. The bed and window was decorated with lights. The walls were painted a pretty shade of violet. A few clothing items were lying around but otherwise Pippa had been a neat girl. Much neater than Daisy. He berated himself for once again drawing parallels to his daughter but it was an easy path for his thoughts to follow.

He stepped into the room, making a slow sweep around. He picked up random items, looked at them, placed them back. A photo of Pippa caught his eye. She was smiling widely into the camera, wearing a silver pendant. He remembered the mother telling him that Pippa had been wearing that pendant on the day she disappeared. It had not been listed with her belongings. Where was it?

He put the picture back and sat on her bed. He placed his hand on her pillow. On a whim he slid it under. He found a thick notebook with a lock. A diary.

"If it helps you to find the killer, you can break it open. I don't know where she keeps the key."

He looked up. Cate was leaning against the door frame. Her eyes were puffy and her face stained with tears and makeup, but she had stopped crying. She looked small and lonely against the light coming in from behind her. Hardy's throat was closing with tears he couldn't allow himself to show. This mother relied on him and trusted him to find the murderer of her child. He swallowed hard.

He stood up and took a step closer. "Thank you. We will treat it with respect."

She nodded. "Will you find who did this?" Her voice was low and hollow.

He looked into her puffy, sad eyes. His heart was overflowing with emotions and he gave in. "I promised you we would find her and we did, even if it was too late to save her. I want to promise you that we will find the killer, but I can't. What I can do though is assure you that I will not rest until I have laid my hands on whoever did this. Pippa will not be forgotten and I swear I will do anything to get you justice."

Their gazes met. She held his for a few heart beats, and then looked down. "Justice won't bring her back." And she left him standing alone in the room.

* * *

Hardy had to leave the house. The dreariness was threatening to overwhelm him. He decided to walk the streets of the estate to clear his head before coming back to once again question the Gillespies over their movements on the day of the murder.

He passed by the adjacent house and saw somebody behind the curtains. The elusive neighbors were finally home. He changed his mind. Questioning somebody might actually clear his head better than meandering around and brooding. He went up to their door, ringing the bell. At first there was no answer, but when he knocked and identified himself as police, a tall, built man opened the door.

Holding up his ID badge, Hardy greeted him. "I'm DI Alec Hardy with the South Mercia Police. I was wondering, if I could ask you a few questions regarding your landlord's family?"

"Did you find Pippa?" No greeting, no introduction. Hardy tried not to frown at the abruptness.

 _Interesting._ He felt intrigued. He squinted at his notebook, looking for the name he had scribbled down somewhere.

"Are you Lee Ashworth?" He didn't answer the man's question about Pippa.

"Yes." Lee didn't make any motion to let him in, nor did he attempt to make conversation.

Hardy was getting impatient. He decided not to beat around the bush. "Where were you on the evening and night of April 14th?"

"Why do you want to know?" Lee had stepped outside, closing the door to his house behind him.

"You obviously know that Pippa and her cousin are missing. We're just looking into who might have been around to have noticed anything on the night the girls disappeared." Hardy kept his voice level, not indicating any further interest than routine.

"Somebody already came and asked that question. Why would you come back? Shouldn't you know that, being the boss of this lot?"

Hardy was surprised. Ashworth must have recognized him from his picture in the newspaper. Bloody journalists. He was briefly distracted by the thought of the looming press statement. He pulled himself together, not letting Ashworth of the hook.

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Ashworth. Where were you that night?" Hardy's face was impassive.

"I was at home. My wife was here too. All night. You can ask her, if you don't believe me." Ashworth was positively defensive, no doubt. Tess had picked up on the same odd emphasis on them being together that evening and here it was again.

"Is she home? Your wife?" Hardy's gut feeling told him there was something off about the man in front of him. He tried not to get too excited though, knowing better than that. A murder investigation was not based on someone's emotional response but on facts and evidence. Still, it didn't sit right with him.

"No, she isn't." Another tight-lipped answer.

"Will she be back later? I'd like to talk to her as well."

"If you must. Claire's at work. She won't be home before the evening." There was a defiant undertone in Ashworth's voice.

Hardy's brain put a few more puzzle pieces in place – the unidentified fingerprints, the Ashworths driving Pippa around, Claire and Pippa playing hair dresser together, they had a key to the house.

"We'll also send somebody around to do your and your wife's fingerprints." And before Ashworth could say anything, he added, "Elimination prints. For all people who had frequent access to the Gillespies' house." There was no room for discussion in his voice. This was his show and he wasn't going to let somebody else run it. He would get a warrant for DNA sample's as well.

"I'm sorry for all the ruckus that our team is causing. I hope with the thin walls you haven't been too disturbed." Hardy was trying to make it sound as innocent and apologetic as he could.

"Ya, it's been quite noisy, can hear you lot talking all the time." Ashworth had no idea that he just confirmed Hardy's suspicion that if he and his wife indeed had been home and if there was anything going on the Gillespies' house they should have heard it. He was pleased with himself. He went on to probe.

"As you were here all night on the 14th, did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary?" Hardy gave him a piercing stare.

Lee shook his head. "No. It was dead quiet all night."

"That's interesting, Mr. Ashworth. Considering how easy it is to hear stuff through these walls, one might think you would have at least heard the two girls talking or making some noise."

Their eyes locked. Ashworth was the first to look away.

"I might have some more questions later. Don't leave town, would you. Have a good day." He turned and walked away without looking back, a pleased grin on his face.

* * *

Hardy let Tess take the lead in the conversation with the parents. They painstakingly went over all the movements of that day again. Where they had been, when they came home, when Lisa arrived, when they went to the wedding. They stated they had been together at the party the whole time. A solid alibi for both of them.

"So, you never split up the whole evening at the wedding? Not even to talk to different people?" Tess was probing them.

Ricky's answer came quick and sharp. "No. We basically stuck together. Didn't like a lot of the people there, so I wasn't really interested in chatting. I went to get drinks for Cate a few times and to the bathroom, but otherwise we were hanging out. Cate was…" he hesitated for a moment, looking at his wife who was listening with a blank expression. "She was enjoying herself, if you know what I mean." He gave a sly smile.

Cate scoffed. "I was pissed, why not be frank. I had a few too many. That's why Ricky stayed close. Can't leave the drunk wife alone." She sounded bitter.

Hardy was watching them intently. They sat close to each other, Cate's hand resting on Ricky's knee. He had moved his arm away from where it had been resting around her shoulders when they started talking about the wedding. For a split second Hardy wondered if they were telling the truth. But then why would they lie? Why would anyone lie when faced with the murder of their own child? Unless they're involved in it. Hardy cringed at the thought. He didn't want to believe that to be possible. He knew better though. Nobody could be trusted until they were eliminated as a subject.

He leaned forward and posed his own question. "Your neighbors, the Ashworths… do they come to your house often?"

Ricky nodded. "Ya, they do. We often do things together on the weekends… dinner, BBQ, those kinda things."

"Would Pippa or Lisa be there as well?"

Again a confirmation. "Ya, suppose so. Pippa liked them a lot. She…," Ricky trailed off, eyes glittering, trying to find his composure. Hardy waited patiently, but Ricky didn't continue.

"You were saying, she liked them a lot. What sort of things would she do with them?" Hardy followed up on Ricky's abandoned words.

It was Cate who filled it. "She was fond of Lee, liked to hang around him, go for walks together with him and Lisa, or to the movies, that sort of thing. I guess, lately she also started spending time with Claire, the hairdresser business… Pippa liked that." She shrugged her shoulders. The change in tone when Cate mentioned Claire didn't escape Hardy's attention.

Hardy glanced over at Tess. She looked at him and there was a 'no' in her eyes, indicating that she for now didn't have any further questions.

He moved in his chair, plucking his glasses of his nose, scratching his eye brow. He didn't want to discuss the next topic, but there was no way around it. "We will be making a statement to the press as part of the standard procedures. We will ask them to respect your privacy but you should get ready for them to show up at your door step. Our advice is to not talk to them, but in the end it's your choice. Our family liaison officer will stay with you to keep you updated and help you if the press should get more invasive. Do you have any questions at this point?"

It was an empty phrase. Hardy despised the hollowness of the formalities that needed to be exchanged. How could they not have questions? And he didn't have answers. Not yet, he told himself.

They both shook their heads, faces blank. Hardy and Tess bid their farewells and walked outside.

"I met Lee Ashworth. Had an interesting conversation. Send somebody over there to do elimination prints. Also, ask them for DNA samples, would you please? If they don't volunteer, get a warrant. They've been in the house often enough for us to have grounds to get one."

Tess raised her eyebrows. "And what are you going to do, _boss_?"

"Ach, seriously, Tess? We've been through this, you do your job and I do mine," Hardy snapped back at her. "I'm going to talk to Lisa Newbery's mother and then have the pleasure of making the press statement. You wanna do that? Because I'd be happy to leave that to you." He glared at her and she just looked away.

"Thought so. I'll see you tonight then." He left without any further word from her, disgruntled over their squabble and her petty feelings of jealously over his position as her boss. It wasn't the first time this had come up and it wouldn't be the last. He hoped by the time they would both get home, things would cool off.

* * *

He nibbled on the sandwich that Daisy had made for him while driving back to the station. He wasn't sure if it was the case and the related pressure, the medications or the now ever present fatigue, but he sure didn't feel like eating anything. His lack of appetite made it hard to remember to take care of himself. If it wasn't for Daisy's reminder this morning, he probably would have forgotten all about lunch. He washed down his pills with some cold tea, ignoring the tightness in his chest. He had remembered to make an appointment with Dr. Abbott for next week though. He was hoping that maybe by then the case would have progressed enough and he could turn his attention back to his own problems. For now, that would have to wait.

Back in his office, he checked in with forensics to see if there was any useful new information. His frustration only grew when he learned that the rain probably had ruined all their chances of finding anything of significance. He collected DS Thompson to come to interview Marilyn Newbery, Lisa's mother, with him. Thompson had at least spoken with the woman and might make it easier to start a conversation.

The house was old and maybe a little run down, but the small front yard was neat and had a big patch of tulips brightening up the gray colors of the walls and door. They rang the bell and after a few moments a woman maybe in her late thirties, early forties opened. She had a conventionally pretty face, graying blond hair, and maybe a little bit more weight on her than what people would consider full figured. Her eyes were blue and sad.

Thompson and Hardy showed their ID badges. Hardy let his DS do the introductions as he had talked to her on the phone. She barely looked at the IDs and asked them to come in. They sat down in her kitchen which was old fashioned, clean but not scrubbed, only equipped with essential appliances.

She was busying herself with making tea, when she asked without looking at them. "Any news from my daughter? Or little Pippa?" There was only the slightest quiver in her voice.

"Ms. Newbery, I'm sorry to inform you that we have found what we believe is Pippa's body yesterday." Thompson sounded like a robot when he gave her the horrid news.

Her movements stopped, frozen over pouring water in the tea pot. "Where did you find her?"

Thompson glanced briefly at Hardy, who nodded and gave him the go ahead to reveal the information. "She was found in the river," Thompson stated without any emotions.

Hardy noticed the shiver that ran over Marilyn Newbery's shoulders. He blinked away Pippa's image and involved himself in the conversation.

"We haven't found any traces of Lisa being there. We are still searching the area thoroughly, but nothing so far. You haven't heard anything from her since that phone call on Saturday?" Hardy softly asked.

Marilyn shook her head. Her reaction was so different from the Gillespies' hysteria and anger. She finally had turned around, wiping some silent tears of her cheek. She sat down next to Hardy at the kitchen table, clasping her hands.

"The poor, poor girl. Did she drown?" Her question was full of sorrow and compassion.

Hardy looked at her face, lines of old heartache deepened by the sadness of Pippa's death. Lisa looked like her mother, just a younger happier version. Hardy couldn't quite explain why this woman in front of him touched him more than Cate or Ricky, maybe it was her quiet grief or the realization that life probably hadn't always been nice to her.

He gently answered, "No. We believe she was murdered and left in the river."

Thompson gave him a surprised look, not expecting him to be so open before they even had an opportunity to question her further. He didn't know himself why, but it felt like the right thing to do. She nodded silently, eyes darkening.

"I hope she didn't suffer too much. Lisa was so fond of her." She stared at her hands.

"Ms. Newbery, could you clarify for us your whereabouts for the time from last Saturday to now?"

Thompson was proving once again Hardy's opinion of him being oblivious of the moods of people he was talking to. Sure, they had to ask the question, but learning more about Pippa's and Lisa's relationship, about Lisa herself would be imperative to the case. He suppressed the impatient urge to tap his fingers on the table. Marilyn was thrown off, and the moment was gone. Hardy's frustration with his DS was rising. He made a mental note to tell him next time to be quiet and let him do the talking.

"I was visiting my cousin in Bristol. She's been ill and I was helping the family. I left on Friday night. Couldn't come back earlier, my cousin really needed me. She's had surgery on Monday." She sounded apologetic.

Before Thompson could ask about the name and contact information of the cousin, something he was sure to do next, Hardy tried to steer the conversation back to the two girls. "You said, Lisa was fond of Pippa. Did they spend much time together? There was quite an age difference, no?"

Marilyn's lips curled up in a small smile. "Lisa adored Pippa. She never had any siblings, so Pippa took that spot in her heart. And Pippa was such a lively girl, they always had fun things they were doing together. It was much more than babysitting, Lisa enjoyed spending time with her, showing her things. Especially lately as Pippa was becoming more of a teenager. They shared secrets and…," she trailed off. The tears were back.

Hardy swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry," he muttered, Scottish accent thick with genuine empathy.

She nodded and padded his arm that was resting on the table. "Thank you." She sucked in a deep breath and the tears slowed down.

"Do you need to look at Lisa's things?"

"Aye. We will send over a team. It might be a little intrusive," Hardy apologized in advance.

"It's alright. Whatever helps you find her and whoever did this." And after a few heart beats she added, "What kind of a monster would leave a child in the river?"

Hardy's and her gaze met. There was no need for words, just mutual understanding over the horror.

"We will find them, I promise you," Hardy quietly said while still looking in her eyes.

They got up and Hardy indicated to Thompson to get SOCO to the house. He went ahead to make the call, while Hardy trailed behind.

"Did you find her?" Marilyn asked quietly. Hardy stopped dead in his tracks. He had no idea how she could have known.

To his surprise he didn't hesitate with his answer. "Aye. I found her. Carried her out of the river."

She walked around him and looked up, her eyes dark again. "That must have been rather horrifying." She put her hand on his arm again. "Thank you for not leaving her in there."

Hardy couldn't say anything. She smiled and let go of him. Just when she turned away, she asked barely audible, "Do you think it was Lisa's fault? Not paying enough attention?"

He swallowed, still trying to compose himself. He made every effort to be truthful. "I can't know yet, but I would like to believe the answer is no."

She nodded, staring at the floor. "Thanks for being honest with me. I don't need false hopes, had enough of that in my life."

She left him at the door, a lonely figure walking back to her kitchen. Hardy's heart was heavy and he didn't say a word to Thompson on their way back to the station.

* * *

Baxter caught him as soon as they were back.

"Hardy, we have to chat about the press statement. What's your plan with that?"

Baxter was comfortably sitting on the sofa in Hardy's office, legs crossed, arm draped over the back of the sofa. Looking way to casual for Hardy's taste. Something was up. Hardy plopped on his chair, tired from a day of talking to people. He leaned back on his chair and squinted at his boss. He was in no mood to play games with the vultures from the press.

"Care to explain why you're so involved in a simple press statement?" Hardy sighed. He wasn't trying to be confrontational but he realized it had sounded very much so.

"I heard a rumor that this Karen White woman is drumming up the journalists including the local TV news." Baxter was scrutinizing his finger nails, eye brows raised, and eventually he looked Hardy straight in the eyes. "Are you up for that? This town isn't exactly used to finding murdered children in the river. I can't have you space out like you did the last time. Do you understand?" Baxter's tone was still rather casual, but nonetheless dead serious.

Hardy groaned. He hated the press. And he felt extremely uncomfortable in front of TV cameras. There hadn't been many occasions he actually had to do this, but it came with the job.

Baxter frowned and sat up straight, all nonchalance gone. "Your reaction is not exactly inspiring confidence in me. If you want to I can do but it's not really my job to be the spokesperson. I'll be there but you as the SIO should be the one talking."

Hardy snorted. "I'll deal with it. 'S not like it's the first time."

"Right, but it's your first child murder case, Hardy. That's a different ball game, especially in a town like this." Baxter didn't let Hardy look away, pinning him down with his piercing blue-gray eyes.

"Did you go through my personnel file to figure that out?" Hardy questioned, rather defensively. He felt vulnerable, as if a weakness was exposed.

"Indeed I did." Baxter calmly replied. He sighed. "Listen, Hardy. I'm not after you, no need to get all worked up. I'm just doing my job, making sure that I know everything I need to. I trust you, otherwise I wouldn't let you lead this investigation. I know you're the best person for it and that you would be the first to tell me if you're not up for it."

Hardy couldn't look at him. The guilt of not telling his friend and boss that he had serious health problem was almost winning over Pippa's haunting image. Two days ago he could maybe have confessed but not now, not after pulling the lifeless body of a twelve year old girl out of the river. Not after he had promised to the families to find whoever did this. He couldn't let them down. He chose to ignore the fact that his health might be the one thing preventing him from actually accomplishing what he had vowed.

He stood up, straightening his tie and the lapels of his suit jacket. "It's time to go. Who's driving this time?"

Baxter grinned. "I'm not getting in a car with you behind the wheel. I've heard stories. Thompson was rather animate about it."

Hardy let out a snort. "Didn't know you were as faint of heart as DS Thompson. He's quite a wimp, if I may say." He snatched up his coat, swinging it on half way out the door already. He pulled out his car keys, jingling them over his head. "Are you coming or what?" he yelled and stormed off to the elevator.

* * *

Hardy made it to the school in a record time. He only noted Baxter flinch once. His boss climbed out of his car, muttering under his breath about abuse of power and how he should have him arrested. Hardy grinned, enjoying the brief moment of levity until he spotted the news truck.

 _For fuck's sake_. Of course, now that it involved a dead child and not only a missing one, the vultures would descend like there was no tomorrow.

He walked into the school gym and held his breath. It was packed. With community members and the press alike. He wondered how much had already leaked out. His fingers tingled and there was a tugging in his chest. He turned around.

"Just going to the restroom," he mumbled. He couldn't get there fast enough, the anxiety of a possible attack making things worse. He hid in a stall and swallowed down his regular and the extra pills, not really thinking about if that was a good idea or not.

Once back in the gym, he took his spot next to Baxter. He squinted into the harsh lights of the TV cameras. To his surprise Pippa's parents were in the audience. Baxter went through the motion of introducing everybody and then turning it over to Hardy.

This time, he was ready.

"Yesterday afternoon, the dead body of a teenaged girl was found in the river Sandbrook. We believe it to be one of the missing girls, Pippa Gillespie. We are currently conducting a thorough investigation of the circumstances of the death. We are also still looking for Lisa Newbery," Hardy delivered his words with a measured and steady voice.

He paused and braced himself for the onslaught of the questions.

"Did she drown? Or was she murdered?" a young reporter asked.

"We are treating her death as suspicious. I cannot give you any further information at this point." There were moments when standard language came in handy.

"Do you have any suspects?" The question came from the same man. Hardy sighed inwardly at the moron. If Hardy didn't even want to confirm that is was murder, why would he discuss suspects?

"I cannot comment on this question as it would compromise the investigation." His voice was level enough although he could tell his temper was rising. And so could Baxter next to him. His boss moved slightly in his chair and that was all the reminder Hardy needed to pull himself together.

Before anybody else could speak, Hardy continued. "We would like to ask the public and the press to respect the privacy of the families. This is a time of grief and extraordinary distress and we should all be mindful of the fact." His gaze trailed over the crowd until he found the Gillespies. Cate's face was blank and expressionless, whereas Ricky seemed fuming, face red and angry looking eyes.

Hardy caught sight of Karen White. She was following his every move and her eyes were darting back and forth between him and the Gillespies. They finally rested on him. She stood up.

"DI Hardy, how are you feeling the investigation has been going so far now that predictions came true that the girls were murdered?" she smugly asked. Hardy had to put up all effort not to roll his eyes at the despicable woman.

"First, we have not stated that anybody was murdered. We are treating Pippa's death as suspicious. And secondly we have found only one body so far. Lisa Newbery is still missing." He wanted to add antagonizing words about getting facts straight so badly but he knew better than that.

Her smug smile did not disappear. "It's there any truth to the rumor that one member of your team pulled the body out of the river by himself and almost drowned in the process? And if so, isn't that against all procedure?"

Hardy's heart skipped a few beats and instead of speeding up as he would have expected it slowed down, slower and slower until he could feel the pauses between beats. He had no idea if this was due to the double dose of medication or part of his arrhythmia, but whatever it was it made him see Karen White double which was a nauseating sight to say the least. He balled his hands into a fist, deliberately poking his palms with his nails. He took in a deep breath and the sensation of his heart stopping eased up.

He cleared his throat. "The circumstances of the recovery of the body are part of the ongoing investigation and as such I'm not able to discuss any details," he managed to say with only the slightest of quiver in his voice. He could hear Baxter letting out a breath that he'd been holding.

"You never answered my question about how you're feeling the investigation is going?" She was relentless.

Hardy relaxed. Those were the questions he could answer without thinking too much. The formal language had been drilled into him since he had joined the force.

"This investigation is being conducting by a dedicated team of police officers who are working around the clock to apprehend the guilty party. We are securing evidence and following leads as appropriate."

His words were just as empty as all the other euphemism and standard comments, but here is served its purpose. He was under no illusion though that Karen White would buy it.

Sure enough, she was still talking. "So, you're basically saying that you have no clue and are just looking into everything until you maybe find something?"

Hardy wished he would have been more antagonizing earlier on. His dislike for this person was growing by the minute. Baxter next to him was getting tense, probably just as angry as he was. He wanted to lash out so badly, but experience told him it wasn't going to help the matter.

When he continued, he didn't look at her, but straight at the cameras. "The disappearance of these two girls is a tragedy. For the families, for the town. And now that one of them has been found dead under suspicious circumstances, a lot of questions have been thrown up. The police force is here to answer those questions and not to waste their time with unfounded accusations by the press. Searching the sites for evidence, evaluating the evidence, making inquiries – all of those things need to be done carefully and given the appropriate attention. If the public wants to help, they should reach out to us with any information they think is relevant. The phone lines are open 24 hours. We are also still looking for Lisa Newbery and should not forget about that."

He paused for a moment and looked away from the cameras at the Gillespies. Cate's eyes were fixed on him, Ricky was looking out the window. He nodded ever so slightly at her and she did the same. He turned back to the cameras.

"We will find whoever did this and bring the families justice." They were quiet words, but spoken with a strong conviction born out of his need to make peace and put Pippa Gillespie's ghost to rest. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.

* * *

Baxter called the press conference to an end, and Hardy was grateful for that. While people were filtering out, he lingered on his seat, the exhaustion of the long day catching up with him. His heart was still beating oddly slow considering how tense and riled up he felt. He feared he might get dizzy if he got up too fast. He wished he had let Baxter drive as he wasn't sure if he was quite up for it.

"You did a good job with this. No idea where this awful woman gets her information from, but she is certainly someone to be watched." Baxter was padding his shoulder.

He then tilted his head, looking Hardy over with a frown. Hardy tried to pull himself together not wanting a repeat performance from after the last press conference. He stood up slowly, hands resting on the table, just in case. The lightheadedness was faint and subsided quickly.

"Let's go home. I've had enough for the day," he gravelly suggested.

"Right." There was a questioning undertone in Baxter's voice. "You look spent, do you want me to drive? I can take you home and take a taxi from there to my house."

It was his friend talking, not his boss and Hardy was grateful for that. He fished out his car keys and handed them to Baxter with a silent _'Thank you'_. It took him all will power not to fall asleep in the car.

They had reached his house and were standing in the driveway, waiting for Baxter's taxi to come.

"It's been a long day, ey?" Baxter struck up the conversation. Hardy just nodded.

"You worked hard on this. Time to take care of yourself." Baxter was still frowning at him.

"You know I'm shit at that, right?" Hardy tried to make it sound like a joke but couldn't quite get there.

Baxter's response was serious. "I do very well know that, Alec. And that's why I'm reminding you."

Hardy shoved his hands in his pocket, feeling awkward about the fact that he couldn't tell the truth to his friend who was clearly so concerned for his wellbeing. Neither man said another word until the ride arrived.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Eat some food and get rest." Baxter smiled at him encouragingly.

"I will, promise." Hardy finally managed to smile back, right when Baxter closed the car door.

Hardy turned around and walked up to the door. The house was dreadfully empty. He assumed Tess was still at work and Daisy was staying with a friend as neither parent could tell when they would come home. He stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast. He still didn't have any appetite, but he forced himself to eat and drink some water. He dragged himself upstairs to the bed. He sat down briefly, leaning back on the headboard. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, wanting to catch his breath. He was out before he knew it.

When he woke up in the dark, he was still dressed, awkwardly draped over the pillow and a blanket tucked around him. Tess was deep asleep next to him. Her mouth was slightly open, her beautiful face framed by her dark hair. He peeled of his pants and dress shirt and slid under the duvet. Hardy gently stroked her head and breathed a kiss on her forehead. She didn't move and he snuggled in next to her, wrapping his arms around her soft shape, drinking in her familiar scent. The heat from her body filled his aching heart with warmth and comfort and he drifted off into a dreamless sleep. The next morning, she was gone, leaving a cold and empty space at his side.


	8. CHAPTER 7

A/N: Thanks everyone for reading, commenting and following. Disclaimer – I have no expertise in forensics (or police work for the matter) and after reading a multiple page FBI document on hair specimen, I decided that Hardy seriously dislikes them ;-) Needless to say, Hardy is not a friend of TGIF, especially if he has a case to work on...

* * *

CHAPTER 7

Hardy stared at the pictures of Pippa and Lisa. This time not in the police file but in the local morning paper. The headline was as sensationalistic as it could be. _"Murdered Girl Left to Rot in River"_ – from there, it was only downhill. Implications and half-truths were alternating with alluding to the incompetence of the police and speculations over the whereabouts of Lisa Newbery. It was despicable.

Hardy threw the paper in the trash, snorting in disgust. It was under Karen White's byline inclusive of a picture of her with a smug smile on her face. He could only hope that she would leave the families alone, which was not likely to happen. And he sure hoped that Lisa's mother had not read any of the ludicrous speculations that were put forth.

Hardy spent the rest of the morning catching up with paperwork while anxiously waiting for the preliminary forensics report. SOCO had fine combed the Gillespies' house once again and did the same at Lisa Newbery's home. Pippa's diary was still sealed away until copies could be made. He was growing rather restless which wasn't doing anything to improve his already foul mood.

His gaze fell on the picture of Daisy that was on his desk. He had dropped her off at school before coming to work. She had been rather tight-lipped this morning and even growled at him a few times. And she didn't make him tea which was always a sure sign that something was up. He had the feeling she was mad at him but he had no idea why. He had seen her so little this past week that it was almost impossible to have done something wrong to offend her. Or maybe that's what it was, that he had not been around much. That both her parents had been absent for most evenings. He would have to talk to her and hopefully there would be opportunity on the weekend to spend time together.

He breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly, running his hands over his face. It wasn't even noon yet and he already felt fatigued. Even with a halfway decent night's sleep, he didn't seem to be able to catch up. Ever since he found out that his heart for most of the time wasn't beating as steady as he had thought all those years, he had become increasingly aware of all the many moments in the day when it happened. What used to be normal, was now a constant reminder of his treacherous body failing him. It put him on edge, more than he wanted to admit and more than once he wished he could go back to the state of blissful ignorance prior to his first cardiac arrest at Daisy's bedside in the hospital.

Unconsciously, his hand wandered up to his sternum, trying to rub away the tightness in his chest, a tightness that wasn't solely a result of physical ailing but just as much due to the overwhelming emotional toll this was taking on him.

A knock at his door ripped him out of his thoughts, making his heart jump a few beats, forcing it into an uncomfortably fast rhythm, leaving him slightly breathless as if he had just sprinted up the stairs.

"You alright?" Tess was scrutinizing him.

"'M Fine. Just tired. Didn't sleep well last night," he conceded.

"I saw that. Daisy felt bad for you when she found you sagged out on the bed. Fussed over you without you even waking up once. I told her to just put a blanket on you and let you sleep." Tess gave him a small smile.

"Is that why she was grumpy with me this morning?" he asked, frowning.

She shrugged. "No idea. You'd have to ask her yourself." Hardy couldn't help himself and get the feeling that Tess was holding something back. She dropped a file on his desk and changed the topic.

"Preliminary forensics report. Prints are mostly the family and what we are assume are Lisa's. There are two other sets that are common. We are running them against the neighbors'. SOCO also found hair in Pippa's room that on first microscopic inspection doesn't look like Pippa's. Color and length are different. But the final comparison will take a few days."

He nodded, mouth slightly open. "Is there enough to run nuclear DNA? Or can they only do mitochondrial?" He hated hair specimen. Most of the time they couldn't be used to conclusively include someone unless there was enough genetic material which was rare to happen.

"They don't know yet, the hair guy is out for today and over the weekend, so it'll have to wait."

"Ach, for God's sake, we are running a murder investigation here and the guy goes… what? For a fun weekend in the country?" Hardy's voice shifted pitch with his annoyance.

Tess just raised her eyebrows. "He's never in on Fridays. Works only part time."

"Oh, really? Now that's great for him. Maybe we can tell the families that we're running a part time operation here and invite them to join us on the weekend extravaganza," Hardy spat out.

"Alec! The man is recovering from cancer. Show some decency," Tess scolded him like a school boy.

"If he can't do his job, he shouldn't be here." As soon as he said it, his phone buzzed reminding him to take his medication. He stared at it, his own words ringing in his ears. Tess glared at him, face pulled into a deep frown, disapproving of every word he'd uttered. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath.

Silencing his phone, he quietly continued, all anger gone. "I'm sorry, Tess. You're right. That was uncalled for. I'm just…" he trailed off.

"We all are," she admitted not needing him to finish his sentence. "We'll get them, Alec." She gave him a reassuring nod and another small smile. He pulled up the corner of his mouth, a sad attempt to mimic her optimism.

"Are you coming with me to question Claire Ashworth later on?" He didn't like how insecure his voice sounded.

"If you want me to. You might not have a choice anyways. Dave said he refuses to ride in the car with you again." She grinned.

"God, he's such a wimp," Hardy blurted out before he could hold himself back. Tess' face was impassive, the grin gone. She didn't say anything which confused Hardy.

"Did I say something wrong?" He was puzzled by her reaction.

"No, you didn't. Sorry. Was just distracted by thinking about the last time I talked to the Ashworths. They are an odd couple."

Hardy looked at her and was quite sure she had just lied to him. He had no idea why she would do that, but he was willing to let it go for now as they had more important things to do than argue again.

"Fine. We'll go there in the afternoon. Hopefully she'll be home this time around."

Tess nodded. Once she was gone, he was left with an unsettling feeling that he just had missed something important, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He shook away the gloomy thoughts, took his pills and started reading the forensics report. Maybe it would come to him later. Engrossed in the report, he soon had all forgotten about it.

* * *

Lunch time came and went without Hardy even noticing. The grey light from the rainy day was filtering through his office window. After being hunched over all the paperwork for hours, his body felt stiff when he straightened himself. He stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets and walked over to rest his forehead against the cool glass, staring out into the rain. Nothing felt right about this case. There was no sign of forceful entry so abduction was less likely. There was also no good motive for a kidnapping. Neither parent had money to make that scenario in any way interesting unless there were personal issues involved. The fact that Pippa was close to the neighbors and liked going to their house made their involvement possible. Yet again, why?

They had gathered very little information about Lisa so far which he felt was sorely needed. Her phone record had triangulated the last signal to Portsmouth about 18 hours after the last call was made. This made even less sense. How would it get there? Was it possible that Lisa took it there herself? Or was it one of the perpetrators? He needed to go back and talk more to Lisa's mother and possibly her father, Ricky's brother.

He turned around, hands still in his pocket and stared at his wall with the map. Cate's and Ricky's movements were colored in. His eyes drifted to the river. The sound of the rain drumming against the window was growing louder, he could almost feel the water dripping off of him. He rubbed his arms, trying to make the eerie feeling of her weight pulling at them go away. He leaned back on the window, looking up and resisting the urge to close his eyes, knowing what he would see. The ceiling tiles were blurring and he recognized too late that the pauses between his thudding heart beats were too long. He took a step towards the desk but never made it there, his legs giving out from under him. He barely caught his fall on the sofa.

The door to his office swung open.

"Hardy, did you…" Baxter abruptly stopped talking when he saw Hardy kneeling on the ground, rather obviously struggling to clamber to his feet.

 _Shitshitshit._ Baxter couldn't have come at a less inopportune time. For once being startled actually did a good thing to him and jolted his heart back into a more normal rhythm. Before he could get back to his feet, Baxter had pulled him up. He put all his effort into not swaying and he didn't, when Baxter let go of him.

"Did you trip over your own feet, or what?" Baxter joked, but Hardy very well recognized the questioning undertone.

"Ach, don't ask," he grunted, faking what hopefully looked like an embarrassed face. He sounded annoyed enough to give his cover story credibility. At least Baxter seemed to be willing to buy it.

"Hm. Alright then." Baxter plopped down on the sofa, handing him a piece of paper.

"What's this?" Squinting at the writing, Hardy fished out his glasses. It was a record of one of the many phone calls they had received.

"Don't know why that landed on my desk and not yours, but it mentions someone lurking around the Gillespies' house in the past weeks." Baxter explained.

Hardy was reading through the transcript. It had been phoned in anonymously last night. A female caller mentioned 'a hooded figure hanging out on the street' opposite of the Gillespie home. She had seen the person several times in the last weeks, most recently the day before the girls disappeared. She said it looked like a man but she couldn't describe him any further. Upon being asked to provide contact information, the caller hang up.

He tossed the paper on his desk, plucked his glasses of his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose while still holding them.

"We'll look into it. Maybe there are other callers or we can send someone around to do more house to house inquiries."

He leaned against this desk and crossed his arms over his chest, eying his boss with an upward gaze.

"Do you have any news as to when reinforcement is coming in? The front desk has already complained three times they can't handle the call volume and we need more people to review CCTV," Hardy impatiently asked.

"Not until after the weekend. We…" Baxter didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

"What is it with everyone and the bloody weekend?" Hardy growled at him. "This is a murder investigation and not a tea party. The hair guy isn't in, we won't get the staff we need and next you're going to tell me to take the days off." He was fuming, pent up frustration bubbling over.

Baxter just raised an eyebrow, not fazed by Hardy's outburst. "Funny that you should mention it, but actually I did want to tell you that I expect you to not spend your entire time in this office over the next couple of days. And before you interrupt me again, I'm not saying you shouldn't work on the case, because we all know that's not realistic, but what I am saying is that you need to take a little break here and there. No more sleeping on this sorry piece of furniture." Baxter tapped the sofa he was sitting on.

Hardy scoffed and didn't say anything. In principle Baxter was right, but they couldn't afford for this investigation to drag out, and if that meant working on the weekend, so be it. It was part of the job and everyone knew it. It would be nice to spend some time with Daisy though. He missed their carefree banter. The last time he had really talked to her was when she had asked him about Pippa. He stared out of the window into the rain again. He had to admit, he was feeling lonely without his regular family life around to ground him and balance out his moody tendencies.

Baxter got up. "Look, Hardy. I know you're not going to rest much until this is over, but I also need you to last all the way through, so do make an effort and take a break here and there. It won't hurt and you'll have a clearer mind." He padded him on the shoulder and was out the door as quickly as he had come in.

When the door had shut, Hardy let out a breath. He pulled his pills out of his pocket, popped a couple in his mouth and tapped the blister pack in his hand. _'Last all the way through'_ – Hardy sure hoped he would.

* * *

Hardy confirmed with Tess that they had the warrant to get the DNA sample before going back to the estate. They drove in separate cars so that Tess could leave early if needed and pick up Daisy from a friend's house. They had been relying heavily on Daisy's popularity to get through this busy time. He felt guilty for abandoning her like that but they had no choice.

He got stuck in traffic and by the time he got there he was ready to yell at someone. Unfortunately there was nobody doing him the favor to serve as a target. With a scowl on his face he joined Tess at the Ashworths' door.

"You're into 'bad cop-good cop' now?" Tess asked, her voice rich with sarcasm.

"What?" Hardy was confused.

"That scowl you're wearing. Relax a little Alec, they are going to think you're after them," she reprimanded him.

"Who says I'm not?" Hardy replied sardonically and knocked firmly at the door.

A woman with long wavy chocolate brown hair opened.

"Oh, DI Hardy. How nice to finally meet you," she bubbly greeted him.

She stuck out her hand and Hardy shook it out of reflex. He caught Tess' amused grin in the corner of his eye. He could only image the baffled face he was making, surprised by the woman's enthusiasm.

"The picture in the paper didn't do you justice." She smiled broadly, revealing a tiny gap between her front teeth.

"Shouldn't have been in there to begin with. Bloody journalists," he grumped, oblivious of the compliment.

"Come on in then. I'll put the kettle on." She ushered them into the house and the kitchen. She beckoned them to sit down at the table, while she was fussing over the tea.

Hardy started with the usual formalities. "As you seem to already know, I'm DI Alec Hardy and this is DS Teresa Henchard. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your landlords the Gillespies and also about their niece Lisa Newbery."

Hardy was in the habit of making sure to use Tess' full name and her maiden name at work. They had discovered the hard way a long time ago that it worked better to not convey to people that they were a couple. When they got married, she had taken his name only to later more and more use her own. And by now that's what it was.

Claire Ashworth placed the tea mugs on the table and sat down opposite of them.

"How can I help you, detectives? I still can't believe that poor Pippa is dead. I just did her hair last week, we were having so much fun together." Her big greenish brown eyes were moist and she looked down, as if to hide her emotion.

"Can you tell us where you were on the evening of April 14th?" Hardy posed his standard question.

"We were both home. Together. Lee and I wanted to have a quiet evening, stay in, you know." Claire was quick to reply. It sounded rehearsed to Hardy, but maybe he was just going of what Tess had told him earlier about her meeting with the couple.

"Did you notice anything that night that was out of the ordinary?" Tess joined in the conversation.

"I heard the girls talk and move around. Maybe their TV. The walls are thin, you know?"

Hardy's ears perked up when she answered the question so differently from her husband, almost repeating his own words that he had used with Lee. He scribbled in his notepad and there was a brief flicker of concern on Claire's face.

"Did you hear anything that would have made you worried?" Tess continued.

"No." Claire shook her head. She turned away from Tess and leaned in closer to Hardy, trailing her finger over the table towards his untouched tea. She looked up and found his eyes.

"Did you find Lisa yet?" she asked with a hushed voice, still holding his gaze. Hardy felt uncomfortable. He wasn't sure what game she was playing at. He could feel his ears heating up and was annoyed at himself.

He cleared his throat. "We can't answer that question, Mrs. Ashworth."

"Oh, please call me Claire." She put her hand on his arm. He flinched with the uninvited touch. She blushed, blinked her eyes, and slowly trailed her fingers away from him.

"What's going on here?"

All three of them spun around to see Lee standing at the door. His forehead was sporting a deep furrow, suspicion dripping off of him. Claire's face lit up with a big smile. She hurried over to her husband and wrapped herself around him. His arm circled around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"I thought you already asked all your questions?" Lee's tone was aggressive.

Hardy stood up, unconsciously placing a protective hand on Tess' shoulder. "Mr. Ashworth, we are just here to talk to your wife."

"You didn't have my permission to come into my house. You better leave now." Lee moved forward, pushing Claire behind him.

Hardy didn't budge, but he made an effort to not tense up. No reason to provoke a fight. He was keeping his voice level. "I have a warrant to obtain a DNA sample from both of you on the grounds that you were frequent visitors in the Gillespies' house. I'm asking you and your wife to come to the station tomorrow so we can get the sample and record an official statement. 10 o'clock would be a good time."

He gently pulled up Tess by the elbow and tried to pass by Lee in the kitchen doorway. He just had about enough room to get through without touching the other man. Tess followed him and they left the house without appearing to rush.

"Now, that went well," Tess said as soon as they were out of ear shot. Hardy just snorted and stomped away. He was unlocking his car when somebody tapped him on the shoulder. It was Claire.

"Sorry about that. He can get rather concerned when he thinks I'm in trouble." She smiled shyly, still standing too close for his comfort. Over her shoulder, he caught sight of Tess, who was frowning at him, clearly annoyed. She rolled her eyes and got into her car.

"You should go back inside. He's watching you." Hardy nodded towards the window where Lee was lingering behind the curtain again.

Her smile vanished. "I know he is. But I want him to know that I'm not afraid of him."

Hardy was keeping his face neutral as to not let on what he just had heard. "Are you telling me that you don't feel safe at home?"

She laughed. "Ah, you're sweet. No, I'm perfectly fine. Just didn't like the way he was taking control over the situation. He doesn't say who I can talk to or not. See you tomorrow then. Bye."

She turned around and gave him a small wave on the way back to her house. Hardy didn't move, taking in the encounter. His instincts were all tingling. This was going to be an interesting interview. He felt better than he had all day. He climbed into the car and sped off, tires squealing. Probably breaking more traffic laws than only the speed limit, he found himself back at the station rather quickly and in a much improved mood than when he had left.

* * *

He lost track of the time while writing his report for the day and planning ahead. Eventually, he tore himself lose from the case file and left. When he reached his home, it was dark outside and raining again. He ran from the driveway to the door, panting even with the quick dash. He shook the rain off when he walked into the hallway. The house was quiet, no talking or any other signs of activity.

He padded into the kitchen, loosening his tie and tossing the suit jacket over the banister. Tess was cleaning up dinner. He snuck up on her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She jumped and dropped the plate she was holding. It broke.

"Jesus, Alec. What'd you do that for? You scared the shit out of me," she exclaimed angrily.

He stepped away, chewing his lower lip. "Sorry, love."

Tess snorted and returned to the washing up, taking care of the broken plate. He eyed the leftovers, realizing he hadn't really eaten much all day. It was pasta with Alfredo sauce, one of Daisy's favorite dishes. And his as well. Up until now. He stared at it, anger at his bum heart rising until he couldn't handle it anymore. He stormed out of the kitchen up the stairs to say hello to Daisy. He had to pause at the landing to catch his breath, only making his frustration worse. He balled his hands into fists, short from punching the wall.

He took a few moments to settle down before knocking at Daisy's door, shoving away his personal problems. She didn't reply.

"Darlin'? It's Dad. Just wanted to say hello," he quietly said.

No answer. He frowned. She couldn't still be grumpy at him, could she? Tired, he leaned his forehead against the door and knocked again.

"Please, Daisy. Talk to me. I know I was home late again today, and I'm sorry that your mother and I haven't been around much this week. Let's try to do something on the weekend, right?" he was pleading with her.

It was going to be her birthday next week and… he stopped in the middle of his thought.

 _Fuck._ He gently banged his head against the door. The party. He had forgotten all about the party and his promise to find something special that would make it the talk of the school. A promise he made a life time ago, before his heart went to shit and a dead girl's face started haunting him. That's why she was so mad at him. What was he going to do? He sure had no brilliant idea and even less time to figure something out. The party was supposed to be on Sunday.

"Listen, darlin'. I'm really, really sorry. I know I messed up. I'll make it up to you, I promise." He was still talking to the closed door.

"I'm not speaking with you. And don't even think about using the damn ladder. I'm not going to open the window," she angrily yelled from inside her room.

"Please, open the door, Daisy. I just want to apologize while I'm actually looking at you," he was begging now.

"No. Go away!" Her voice sounded so mad. He would never live this down.

"Alright. Again, I'm really sorry. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow morning." After a silent pause he added, "Good night, Daisy. I love you, darlin'."

He walked down the stairs slowly, dragging himself to the living room. He slumped down on the couch and rubbed his face down with his hands. He felt like a total failure. He had promised to help her with the party after she had been so disappointed when those girls a few weeks back had declined her invitation because she wasn't _'cool'_ enough. He probably shouldn't have as he had no idea how to make a 13th birthday party special for a budding teenager.

Tess came into the room. "You finally figured out what's bothering her?" There was an accusatory tone in her voice.

"You could have reminded me," he sighed.

"If you were to involve yourself more in this family, I wouldn't have to remind you," she snapped at him.

"Excuse me? I spend more time with her than you do," he countered, getting angrier.

"Really? Not lately. You need to get your priorities straight, if you want to be part of this family, Alec."

 _God,_ she could be such a smart ass at times. He suppressed the urge to raise his voice, not wanting Daisy to hear that they were arguing.

"Ach, for fuck's sake, Tess. I'm leading what looks like a double murder investigation of two teenaged girls and you can't give me a break?" he hissed at her.

"I guess then it's good that _your_ teenaged girl at least has her mother to make sure she's going to have a proper birthday party," she spat at him and marched out of the room.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. This wasn't even a week into the case and everything around him seemed to spiral out of control already. He barely had a grip on his health, his daughter didn't want to talk to him and all he did with Tess these days was fight. He draped his elbow over his closed eyes. Exhaustion was settling in. He moved to get up and go to bed, but in the end didn't have the energy. _'No more sleeping on the sofa'_ – take this Baxter, didn't say anything about the one at home. There was a small grin on his face when he fell asleep, pleased to have at least won one tiny battle.

* * *

The trees were casting long shadows over the field of blue flowers which were hanging their heads in the rain. Alec was walking along the river, rain pouring down on him. His heart was pounding, making it hard to breathe. The sense of dread was growing and he wanted to run but he couldn't, his legs refusing to take him away from the water, but only closer and closer. Until he saw her, floating in the murky boiling stream. He had to get to her, save her, make the unthinkable undone. He tumbled down the river bank, no holding back, alone, nobody there to be with him. The water was cold as ice, burning him to the bones, invading his body until there was no warmth left. His feet lost the ground and he was being pulled under, deeper and deeper, light vanishing above. His world was upside down, spinning, whirling around, nowhere to hold onto. He couldn't breathe, struggling for air, gasping. But all there was, was the water, gushing down his lungs. He felt life leaving his body, getting weaker and weaker until he was ready to succumb to the dark. Something bumped against him and when he opened his eyes with the last bit of strength he had in him, the dead bloated, blue-pale face of the girl stared at him. Daisy's face.

He screamed, waking up coughing, choking on the water that didn't fill his lungs. He couldn't breathe. The pain in his chest was excruciating. He clawed at it, gasping for air. The world around him was spinning, disorienting him. In his panic, he struggled to get up, but his legs gave out under him. The coffee table caught his fall and his head thudded hard against the glass, hitting the corner when he slid down to the ground. Blood was trickling down into his eyes, stinging. He blinked to clear his vision, only to be welcomed by blackness closing in on him. He dragged himself up to lean against the sofa, shaking hands frantically searching through his pockets. He couldn't remember finding the pills or getting them out of the pack, but they were in his mouth so he swallowed them, still gagging and coughing. The last thing on his mind was the bitter taste they left in his mouth, then oblivion engulfed him and there was only black.


	9. CHAPTER 8

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. It is very much appreciated. Hardy's weekend isn't going so well… hope you'll enjoy the chapter. Please see also the note at the end.

* * *

CHAPTER 8

Hardy's head was throbbing. There was a sharp pain on his forehead. Eyes still closed, he touched the spot and flinched. The panic of the night was lingering, keeping its eerie grip on him. He shivered in the cold, realizing he was lying on the carpet next to the sofa. Stiffly he turned onto his back. He suppressed the urge to cough, knowing the water wasn't really there. Light filtering through his eyelids made him realize it wasn't quite dark outside anymore. He didn't really want to get up, but the thought of either Tess or worse Daisy finding him like this, made him force his eyes open. The right one was caked shut. He rubbed at it and realized the crusty stuff was blood. He groaned and sat up, neck and back muscles tight from being slumped over on the floor.

 _Christ._ He felt like somebody had beaten him up. He was about to run his hands over his face, when he realized that this might not be a good idea considering his state. He looked around and saw crimson red stains on the carpet and the corner of the glass table.

 _Bloody hell._ How was he going to explain that? He wiped at the glass with his sleeve. The spots on the carpet were trickier. He scraped of the crusty leftovers of blood. It was still rather noticeable. He'd have to deal with that later, after cleaning himself up.

He clambered to his feet and padded to the bathroom. There was a small but deep gash above his right eyebrow which was crusted in blood. The dark circles under his eyes and his ghostly pale face sharply contrasted the dark red. He stared at his reflection, working through the horror of his nightmare. The feeling of suffocating and drowning had been very real, so real that he still was short of breath. Or was that his heart? He couldn't even tell, and in a way it didn't make a difference to him. Everything was blending in, making things fuzzy. It took him a moment to realize, the fuzzy feeling was real and that the bathroom was spinning around him. His head was aching like hell and he was getting rather nauseated. He slid down the wall next to the toilet, just in case he had to throw up. Somewhere in his hazy brain, he recognized the signs of a concussion, being reminded of the time he fell of the ladder. He must have hit his head harder than he realized last night.

He pulled up his legs and hugged his knees, head leaning against the cool tiles. He closed his eyes and focused on slow and measured breaths. It helped. Filling his lungs with air unobstructed by the imaginary water calmed him down. The vertigo and nausea subsided. The pain was still there, but in a way it helped him to focus on something else but the vivid images of the nightmare. He stood up and turned on the shower. He let the bathroom steam up, while he was slowly taking off his clothes. He was annoyed at himself that he had slept in them again, beaten by fatigue and exhaustion. He stepped in the shower, tilted his head back and let the hot water soften up the crusted blood before he gently scrubbed his face. He had no idea how much time he had spent under the water, when a knock at the door jolted him back into reality.

"Dad? Are you going to be long?" Daisy sounded impatient.

 _Bollocks._ He really wanted to clean up the living room before they woke up. So much for that plan. He cleared his throat, hoping he wouldn't sound too rough.

"Be right out, darlin'." With the hope to stir her away from the traces of his nightly mishap, he added, "Would you mind making some tea, please?"

"Yes, I do mind. Make your own. I'm still not speaking to you," Daisy grumped through the door.

That hurt. More than the bloody cut on his head. He sighed and turned off the water, whatever tension he had lost all coming back quickly.

"Can we talk about it, Daisy? I'll make breakfast. Please?" he begged.

There was silence from the other side. Maybe she had walked away? He sure hoped she hadn't.

Finally she begrudgingly conceded. "Fine. But I want my eggs sunny side up, don't you dare scramble them. I'll go make tea then."

He smiled. A small step towards reconciliation. He dried himself off and looked closer at the wound. It wasn't big and not bleeding anymore, but clearly noticeable. Maybe he could pretend he had slipped in the shower? He rubbed his hair with the towel, making it stick up in all directions. His fringe was falling into his face and he was about to slick it back when he realized he could hide the cut underneath his brown bangs. He stared at the mirror, trying to not feel too shaggy with the hair falling over his eyes like that, but it served its purpose. He rubbed his stubbly chin with his thumb. He really should shave, but he felt too worn out. He'd do it tomorrow. It was the weekend after all.

Towel wrapped around his slender waist, he padded to the bedroom, surprised to find it empty. While he picked out his clothes he briefly wondered were Tess could be. Gym, most likely. Or maybe she was doing something for Daisy's party. Not like him who had completely forgotten about it. He felt awful, not only because he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to Daisy, but also because he had allowed for him to get sucked into the case so much as to be oblivious about his own child's needs. There was no excuse for that.

He sat down on the bed, mechanically going through the motions of knotting his tie. He felt strangled by it and left it lose. He fished the pills out of his old trouser pockets, swallowed two of them and put them back in his new pair. Yet again, he found himself staring at his reflection. He had to stop doing that. It didn't help, it just made everything worse. He wasn't too thrilled over where his life had been taking him lately, but there was no use in feeling sorry for himself.

He found Daisy sitting at the kitchen table, two mugs ready for them. She was quiet, pretending to ignore him. He opened the fridge and got out what he needed. His back was turned to her, when he started talking.

"Look, I know I messed up. I want to apologize but I'm not making excuses because there aren't really any good ones. I just want you to know, I didn't forget your birthday, I never would. I did forget the party though and I let you down."

He turned around. She was still just sitting there, fixing her eyes on the tea mug. She was scowling and her lips were pressed together. He walked over to the stove and started making the eggs. He wasn't facing her, when she finally spoke.

"You _promised_ , Dad. You've _never_ broken a promise before." She sounded so hurt, it was making Hardy's heart ache. How could he explain to her that there was a time when every parent was turning from perfect into that person who broke a promise? That there was a time when they were getting older and it became harder to protect them from all the pain and rejection of the world, even if you did everything you could as a parent. And that that was part of growing up, something she wanted to do so badly, but that there was a price to that.

He placed the plate with the food in front of her, perfectly done as she liked it. She didn't touch it. He pulled up the chair next to her and sat down.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. I can see how much that hurts you. When I said I would make your party special, I really meant it, but I didn't think it through. Because if I had, I would have figured out that I have no idea what you girls like these days. I shouldn't have promised something that I couldn't do in the end." He put his hand on her arm, but she shook it off.

"Maybe you should be around more often, then you would know. Mum's right, you don't care about the family. You only care about your job." She jumped up and ran out of the room.

Hardy was shocked. Not so much by her reaction, but more by what she had said. The simmering anger quickly turned into boiling hot fury that Tess would dare to make such a comment to her. His face was heating up. All he could do was ball his hands into fists and not break something, while he was trying to compose himself. Then he pulled out his mobile and hovered over Tess' number. How could she do that to him? He tossed the phone down, got up and turned to the counter, leaning on it, arms spread apart. Angry tears were stinging his eyes, his chest heaving with his breaths.

He wasn't aware that she was there until he felt her warm hand on his back. He stiffened up, not able to say anything. He ran his hands over his face to wipe away the tears and noticed blood on them. He groaned. _For fuck's sake_. Why did everything have to be so screwed up this morning?

"Dad? Are you okay?" she asked shyly.

He debated lying, but then decided against it. "No, Daisy. I'm not okay."

He still didn't turn around, not wanting her to see the blood on his forehead.

"I'm sorry about what I said. That was mean. I don't really think that. I was just so angry and disappointed. I know you care about the family," she admitted quietly.

He brushed his hair over his eyes, hoping to hide the cut and turned around. His eyes were still teary and so were hers. He quickly pulled her into a hug before she could take a closer look at him. Resting his chin on her head, he tried to explain.

"I'm sorry that you even had any reason to feel like that, even if it was just for a moment. And I'm really, really sorry that I haven't been around much this past week. It's been…" he struggled to find the right words. What could he say? Horrifying? Utterly exhausting? Draining all life out of him? None of that would comfort her.

"It's alright, Dad. You don't have to explain. I can see it in your face how much it gets to you." Her words were muffled against his chest. "Let's not get soppy, right?"

His lips curled up in a small smile. Sometimes he wondered what he might have done in a past lifetime to deserve such a wonderful child. He kissed her hair.

"No, let's not get soppy," he replied and let her go. His eyes caught the time on the kitchen clock. It was after 9 am and he was going to be late for the interview with the Ashworths.

"Shit, I'm running late," he muttered under his breath.

"Language, Dad. You're just lucky I don't rat you out to Mum about your cursing all the time." She smiled and so did he.

"I'm sorry, darlin', but I really have to go. Maybe we can go to the movies tonight? Just you and me?" he asked hopefully. He had no desire to spend time with Tess, at least not this very moment.

She nodded. "That would be nice. If you can make it."

"I prom…"

She cut him off, putting a finger on his lips. "Don't. Remember, don't promise anything you don't know if you can keep it or not."

He took her face in her hands. "I will try not to, but I can't promise I won't ever do that again." He kissed her forehead and was already out the door when he yelled, "I'll see you tonight. Love you, darlin'."

He was halfway at the station when he realized that he had left his teenaged daughter home alone without even knowing when her mother would be coming back. He cursed at himself and dialed Tess' number. It went to voicemail. He cursed more and left her a message to get in touch with him and let him know when she'd come home and be able to take care of Daisy. Leaving a trail of honking drivers and terrified bicyclist, he just about made it in time to the station.

* * *

It was 10:43 am and the Ashworths had not shown their faces. Hardy was livid. His staff who was unfortunate enough to get stuck working on the weekend, was pretending to appear extremely busy when he briskly walked through the main office. He barked an order to send some uniforms around the house and check, if they might be there.

The splitting headache wasn't helping his mood and when he had to rush to the bathroom to throw up, he about had it for the day. Exhausted, he slumped down on his sofa and closed his eyes, hoping to make the spinning sensation go away. He had underestimated the effects that his accident had on him. The last time he had a concussion after falling of the ladder, it had taken him a day to feel better and another week or so to be back to his usual self. This minor fall shouldn't have caused such an impact. But then he had no recollection of how hard he actually had hit the table. Hard enough to bleed all over the carpet. Which he still hadn't cleaned.

 _Bollocks._

The uniformed officer had reported that nobody was at home at the Ashworth residence. There were no new reports from forensics, the phone lines or anything else for the matter. The full autopsy report was expected to come on Monday. He decided to go home, he wasn't doing any good anyways and rest would hopefully fix things enough for him to be back tomorrow or the latest on Monday.

He slowly stood up. The vertigo was gone and he felt well enough to drive. He probably shouldn't, but he didn't want to leave his car here. He grabbed a few random files to pretend to take work home with him. He told DC Swenson that he was leaving, but was reachable anytime via phone and that they should not hesitate. He hoped his team would be more scared of not telling him things than disturbing him at home. When he was about to walk out, Swenson called him back. They had just received the copies of Pippa's diary. He tucked them under his arm and was out the door.

He made it home without any major incidence, driving much more slowly than usual. The house was empty. There was a note from Daisy on the kitchen table, telling him she went to see some friends and that Tess would be home later this afternoon. He put all the files down and opened the kitchen closet. He inspected its contents to find something suitable to clean away his mess. Frankly, he had no idea what he was looking at considering that every time he helped with cleaning someone just handed him stuff with a detailed instruction, so he couldn't make things worse. He randomly grabbed some spray bottle and a cloth and went to the living room.

When he bent down, he was immediately extremely dizzy and had to suppress the urge to throw up again. He sat on the sofa, blinking at the glass table. It took him a few minutes to register it was broken.

 _Bloody hell._ That at least explained why he was feeling so miserable. Mind fuzzy and overcome with nausea he gave up on his sorry cleaning attempt. He clambered to his feet and dragged himself up the stairs, into the bedroom. He laid down, room spinning around him and tried not to fall asleep. He failed.

* * *

He didn't wake up until the early evening. Voices were filtering up from downstairs. He propped himself on his arms, groaning. Then, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His head still hurt but at least the vertigo was gone. He stood up and walked downstairs. Daisy and Tess were huddling over the kitchen table, decorating a cake.

"Oh look, sleeping beauty is joining us," Tess teased. He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his disheveled hair, pulling down his bangs to cover his forehead.

"Daisy, sweetheart, why don't you go and print out the recipe for the frosting?" Tess instructed her daughter. Daisy bopped her head up and down eagerly and hurried out of the kitchen. Tess took a few quick steps towards Hardy.

"You have about three minutes to explain to me why the coffee table is broken and how blood got onto the carpet. Go!" Tess hissed under her breath. Her piercing blue eyes were scrutinizing him. Before he even could say anything, her hand swiftly brushed away his hair and she sharply sucked in some air.

"Bloody hell, Alec. What did you do?" Her voice was louder now. Clearly there were distinct disadvantages to being married to a detective.

He shock the hair back into his face, struggling to find a good explanation. "Erm… I was trying to go to the bathroom in the dark. Tripped over the carpet and fell on the table."

She frowned at him. "Seriously? That's clumsy, even for you. You didn't have a panic attack or something?"

He intently studied his feet, contemplating his options. Quietly he admitted, "Had a nightmare, about the river. Might have thrown me off a bit. Banged my head pretty hard."

Her questions came quickly one after the other, leaving him barely any time to answer.

"Did you pass out?" He nodded. "Dizziness?" Another nod. "Throwing up?" And another. "Is that why you came home early and slept all day?" Again his head went up and down.

That's when Daisy walked back into the kitchen. She looked from one parent to the other. "What's going on?" she questioned, tone tense.

"Your father managed to get another concussion by tripping over his own feet and smashing in the coffee table," Tess curtly replied.

"What?" Daisy was instantaneously worried. She walked over to him and just like her mother a few moments before immediately spotted the poorly disguised wound.

"Oh, Dad. When did this happen?"

"Last night," he begrudgingly confessed. He was getting lightheaded, but he knew it wasn't from his head injury. He had missed a couple of doses of his medication while he was sleeping, something that his body seemed to be less and less tolerant of. His heart was dragging along and if he didn't take anything soon, this wasn't only going to be a confession about his nightmare and the fallout from it.

"I think I need to lie down again, not feeling so well," he mumbled, chest aching.

"I'll take you back upstairs, Dad. Come." She gently pulled on his arm and pushed him out the door. He held on tightly to the banister. She was right behind him, hand on his back. He tried not to breathe too heavy as that clearly would be hard to explain by a concussion. Once they reached the bedroom, he had to make her leave so he could take his pills.

"Daisy, could you get me some water please?" It was the best he could come up with. While she walked over to the bathroom to get him what he asked for, he scrambled through his nightstand drawer and hurriedly popped a couple of pills in his mouth, waiting for her to come back. He used the water she brought to wash them down. She fussed over him, fluffing his pillow, tucking the blanket around him, arranging his glasses and phone on the nightstand. He got the impression she didn't want to leave.

He grabbed her hand, making her stop what she was doing. "Darlin', you don't need to do that. Talk to me, what's bothering you?" He pulled her down to sit on the bed next to him. She was squirming, but finally got there.

"Why didn't you say anything this morning? I was so stupid about that party, I'm really sorry."

She looked miserable. He sat up and put his arm around her, pulling her back, leaning against the headboard with him.

"Don't feel bad. It was okay in the morning, didn't get worse until later on. Don't worry so much. I'll be fine," he tried to comfort her.

She snuggled up to him. His heart was slow now, making his vision all blurry. He closed his eyes, giving in to the fatigue. It would take a few minutes for the medication to kick in.

"'M sorry we can't go to the movies." The drowsiness slurred his speech.

"It's alright. We'll go next weekend. You need to rest. You had a long week. Go to sleep." She brushed a kiss on his cheek. "Ach, Dad, you didn't shave this morning." She was indignant.

With his eyes closed and sleep firmly taking over, he barely was coherent when he answered. "Too worn out from drowning, Daisy, too worn out."

He was already asleep before he could even see the frown and confusion on Daisy's face.

* * *

"Dad."

He groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. It felt too early to be disturbed.

"Dad! Wake up," Daisy nagged him.

He peeked out from under the pillow. It was too bright outside. He moved and his head protested, but not as ferociously as before. It took him a moment to recall the events of the previous day. He wondered, if that was a result of the concussion as well.

"Why?" he asked gruffly.

"Ach, Dad. Really? Because the party starts in an hour and Mum needs you to go and pick something up from the store." She pulled the pillow away and the light hit his eyes. It actually hurt and he moaned.

Daisy frowned at him. "Are you feeling better? You look horrible."

"Oi, thanks for that." He climbed out of the bed. He was still wearing the same clothes he had put on the other morning. This was becoming an unhealthy habit. If he continued like that, he would only need one shirt and suit. He caught his reflection in the bedroom mirror. The bruise around the wound on his forehead had taken on a nasty yellow purple shade and he had to agree with Daisy, he did look rather hideous.

"Tell your mother to come upstairs and tell me what she needs. 'M going to rinse off and change." He padded over to the bathroom while Daisy was noisily thudding down the stairs.

He barely had taken his clothes off when Tess walked in on him.

"Bloody hell, Daisy wasn't exaggerating. You do look rather worse for the wear." She stepped up to him and looked him over. So did he. There was an angry purple bruise on his right hip. He flinched when she touched it.

"Oh, Alec," she whispered. He self-consciously wrapped a towel around his waist, hiding a very different reaction to her touch. Annoyed at himself, he hurried to get into the shower. While turning on the water, he asked her what she wanted him to do. His memory of the prior day might be fuzzy, but he hadn't forgotten what Daisy had thrown at him the last morning.

"Actually, we are pretty set for the party. I just wanted you to have a way out, in case you didn't want to be around a crowd of noisy people right after waking up from your concussed sleep."

"Is that how you're making up for telling our daughter that I don't care about the family? Or do you just want to get rid of me?" he asked angrily, voice raised over the running water.

"I didn't say that to Daisy," she snapped back at him, equally loud.

"Don't lie to me Tess. Why would she tell me then?" He was getting more and more riled up which wasn't good because he hadn't taken his medication yet.

"I only tried to explain to her why you might have forgotten about the party. She was so upset about it," Tess countered.

"Seriously? That was your way of making her feel better, by telling her I only care about my job?" He didn't understand, frustration growing. He was scrubbing himself down, trying to get rid of all the icky feelings of this weekend. It didn't work.

She was silent, but didn't leave. When he was done and opened the shower stall, she handed him his towel, not looking at him.

"Tess, whatever it is that's going on between us right now, we can't drag Daisy into it. We always agreed on that and now is certainly not the time to change that. We both are under a lot of pressure at the moment and there is so much we need to talk about…" - his irregular heart beat surely could attest to that – "but there never seems to be the right time anymore."

He lifted her chin with his hand, looking her in the eyes. "I miss you Tess. I miss being close to you and I want to go back to how it used to be."

She gave him a sad smile. "Sometimes you can't just go back and ignore everything that has happened, Alec."

He sighed. His heart uncomfortably jolted in his chest. "I know, more than you might think. But we can at least try, please?"

She looked away again. "Get dressed Alec. Let me know, if you're going to be here for the party." And she left him standing, shivering in the cold bathroom.

* * *

Hardy wanted to stay for the party, be part of his daughter's life, but after hiding in the corner for an hour, trying to ignore the fact that the music, the happy chattering and the noise level was giving him a splitting headache, he had to leave. He was feeling nauseated and dizzy again and longed for a quiet moment anywhere else but in his backyard.

He found Daisy, surrounded by her friends, happy and enjoying herself. He pulled her aside, attempting to smile at her guests.

"Darlin', I have to take a break. Not feeling too well. 'M sorry." He hated himself for being such a wimp and bailing out on her, but he also knew that him throwing up at her party or even worse, passing out, would maybe be the talk of the day in school, but surely not the one she had been hoping for.

Her happy face promptly changed into an angry frown. "Really, Dad? Mum said you would try to get out of it and I guess she was right."

Hardy had to put a lot of effort into not showing his anger in front of his child. "Please, Daisy. It's not like that." He couldn't find the right words. The nausea was getting worse and the party lights around him started to spin. He really should get out of there before it was too late. Unconsciously he grabbed onto Daisy's shoulder to steady himself.

"Ouch, you're hurting me." He registered her complaint, but couldn't do anything about it, putting all his energy into suppressing the sickening feeling in his stomach.

"Dad, let go!" He tried, but immediately put his hand back to where it had been holding onto her.

"Dad?" She sounded worried and he felt bad for doing that to her on her big day. He was so miserable though, just wanting to be in a quiet spot so badly. She must have been asking him something, because she was gently shaking his shoulder. Her words finally got through to him.

"Can you hear me, Dad? Answer my question, please." Her voice was full of anxiety.

He pulled himself together. Or at least he tried. "'M sorry, what'd you ask?" Vertigo blurred her terrified face. Tess had finally noted that something was up. She had come over and gripped his arm, digging her fingers deeply into his flesh. It hurt, but it also helped him to focus on something else but the overwhelming nausea.

"Jesus, Alec. You're scaring the hell out of the kids," she hissed in his ear and dragged him away. While she was ushering him up the stairs back into the bedroom, she was going on about his impeccable sense of shit timing to choose this weekend of all to get a concussion. He couldn't really care, he just wanted her to be quiet. Her voice made his ears ring and the idea of his brain melting away from the excruciating pain was almost appealing. Maybe it would make everything stop. They ended up in the bathroom again, him forcefully vomiting and her still muttering on about him being unbelievable.

When he was finished, he was leaning breathlessly against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest, feeling more erratic than it had since the nightmare. He should take some of his pills but the thought of putting anything in his stomach made him gag. It occurred to him that he had barely eaten anything or drank enough fluids in the last two days. Didn't his doctor say something about making sure not to get dehydrated and to have proper electrolyte intake? He tried not to panic.

"I have to go back downstairs. Can't leave a bunch of teenaged girls by themselves. And you're clearly no help," she barked at him.

He tried to get up but couldn't really, too weak and too dizzy. She was watching him struggle, and finally with an exasperated huff, she dragged him to his feet and over to their bed. He fell on it, pulling a pillow over his head in order to block the offensive sensory overload of light and sound. Tess closed the curtains to keep out the light and shut the windows to reduce the noise coming in from the party.

"Get some rest. Come back when you feel better," she instructed sternly. Hardy was out as a light before she even closed the bedroom door.

* * *

He woke up coughing, chocking from the water in his lungs. His arms ached from pulling her out, he could feel her cold body next to him, the river stench all around them. He gasped for air, coughing more, with the desperate need to breath. There was pain, so much pain, everywhere - his head, his chest, stomach and his side. He finally was able to open his eyes, realizing where he was. Not at the river, but at home, in his own bed. His shirt was damp with sweat and his heart was racing away. He reached for his pockets, he was in his underwear. He didn't remember taking his pants off, must have been Tess. Where had she put them? He really needed those pills. He rolled over to his nightstand and dug through the drawer until he found what he needed. Still heavily breathing, he gagged down a couple tablets, hoping he wouldn't need to throw up again.

The noises from the party had died down and it was almost too quiet now. He rubbed down his face with his hands, breathing in and out, waiting for the medication to do its work. There was a note, propped up against the night lamp.

' _Gone to the movies with some friends and Mum. Hope you feel better.'_ – signed with a heart and Daisy's curly signature. He was annoyed that he didn't get to go, especially as he knew Tess actually didn't like going to the cinema. He sat up, feeling significantly better. His head was only mildly achy and the nausea was gone. In fact, he was hungry. He put on some sweat pants and a T-shirt instead of his damp clothes and made his way to the kitchen. His search for a healthy choice for supper was derailed by all the party food leftovers. He eventually settled on some pasta salad and a piece of birthday cake. Not really low fat but considering he barely had anything to eat over the two days, it might be acceptable. Also, he didn't really care. He deserved a piece of cake after all the misery.

He took the dessert to his desk and his eyes fell on the copies of Pippa's diary. He wiped his fingers on his sweat pants and opened the folder. He never had liked reading the victim's private writings such as letters or diaries. Couldn't ask for permission, but then being entrusted with the investigation in their murder might suffice.

She had been an avid writer. The entries were daily and often several pages long. He started with the most recent one, Friday April 13th. Nothing on the day she was taken. Her hand writing was edgier than Daisy's, but very flowery and descriptive. She talked a lot about, how she was looking forward to the weekend, spending it with Lisa. How she would ask her about that boy in school who she liked, but thought he didn't fancy her. She went on to talk in length about these other girls who didn't like her very much but how she didn't really care, which in Hardy's fatherly opinion obviously was very much the opposite. He stared at the papers and tried not to make the immediate comparison to Daisy. It was impossible.

He skimmed back a few days and finally found something that caught his interest. Pippa was talking about her afternoon with Claire, how they were doing each other's hair and how 'awesome and cool' it was to have her as a neighbor. She raved over the haircut and that she seriously considered changing her mind about becoming a hair dresser instead of a make-up artist. Another entry talked about an afternoon with BBQ at their house, Lisa, Claire and Lee were all there. She had showed everybody her new trampoline and it had been a blast.

After an hour of reading the small writing and taking some notes, Hardy's head was throbbing again and he had to put the diary down. A profound sadness was settling in. Not that he didn't assume it before, but Pippa had been a blossoming teenage girl, at the cusp of turning into a young woman, full of hopes and dreams, determined and only thwarted by the expected teenage insecurities, however facing those bravely. Lisa was an important person in her life, almost like a big sister and certainly someone she confided in and looked up to. She had a good relationship with her parents, no indication on any marital problems. So either there were none or the parents were good at keeping it from the girl. The neighbors, Lee and Claire seemed to become more prominent in her life.

He hadn't really gained any major information, but his picture of Pippa and the important relationships in her life were more fleshed out. He sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. He realized he never finished the cake. He took the plate and munched down the last bites. His thoughts wandered to his own child. He didn't know if she was keeping a diary. If she did, would there be any acknowledgement of her parents' squabbling? Would she write about the things that her mother said to her about her father? Despite having just finished the cake, he had a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt betrayed by Tess' back stabbing statements, something he would never do, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why she would say those things to Daisy.

Daisy was turning thirteen in a few days. He remembered the day Tess told him she was pregnant. They had been married for less than a year and it wasn't quite planned at the time, but they were both so excited. He had picked her up and spun her around, hugging and kissing her all over. They fell on the bed together and Tess had to fight him off, mockingly scolding him not to squeeze the baby. She laughed so hard at his terrified face that she was crying. He sure was gentler for what followed.

Hardy smiled. He was so happy back then and he wished he could turn back time, go back to the unburdened more youthful feelings of those days. He rubbed his chest, completely unconscious of the movement. His mind was filled with random memories, lazily tumbling through his thoughts. Happy and sad, alike. He remembered Daisy's first birthday and many others. Her glowing face when blowing out the candles, her utter excitement when unwrapping her presents.

He sat up straight, so suddenly that the forgotten cake plate slid from his lap to the ground.

 _Damn it._ He didn't have a present. How could he have not thought of it earlier? He knew what he wanted to get her, had known since he had seen her in that gorgeous dress at the wedding, but with everything going on it had slipped his mind. He hoped it wasn't too late. He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He found who he was looking for and dialed. She picked up quickly.

"Hello Emma. It's DI Alec Hardy. Remember the guy whom your father keeps complaining about?"

"Ah, the skinny tall Scottish bloke, who curses almost as much as my Dad. Sure I do. How are you?" she playfully answered.

He grinned at her reaction. "'M fine. And yourself?" He politely listened to the answer but was anxious to ask her his question.

"Listen, I was wondering, if you could help me out with something. It's Daisy's birthday and I had an idea for a present for her, but got sidetracked at work."

She chuckled. "Don't you guys always get 'sidetracked'? Saw your picture in the paper. Not very flattering. Sorry about the girls by the way. Awful thing." She sounded sad and they were both silent, until she took in a deep breath.

"Anyways, what was it that you wanted my help with?" she continued, changing the subject.

"Are you still doing that jewelry stuff?"

"Sure thing. Do you want something specific for Daisy? How old is she now?"

"She'll be thirteen on Thursday. And yes, I had something in mind. A necklace. Could you do it that fast?" he asked anxiously. Considering his current negative tally on the birthday tab, he had a lot riding on this.

She sighed. "Typical man, always waiting to the last minute. Depends a little on what you need, but I'd say I could put some extra time in, considering it's for Miss Daisy. Not that I'm doing you a favor or something just because you're my Dad's friend, because you're a total knob, in case nobody told you lately."

He blew out air through the nose. "Don't worry, people don't lose any opportunity to remind me of that. Especially your father."

She laughed again. "Ya, he's good at that, isn't he? Tell me what your knob-mind had envisioned and I see what I can do. Would love to help you, seriously." Her tone was genuine and a small hope was growing inside Hardy. Maybe he wasn't a total failure as a father of a teenaged girl after all.

It took them the better part of an hour to settle on the details. They only argued a wee bit, when both of them were stubborn about color choices, but in the end he was able to convince Emma. When he hung up the phone, he was happy with the plan. He put away all the work related files, took his dirty plates back to the kitchen and decided to go back to bed, to sleep off the last effects of the concussion and the shitty weekend.

On his way to the bedroom, he stopped by Daisy's room. He leaned against the door frame and let his eyes wander around. His memory of her room wasn't at all matching the display in front of him. The decorations were different, posters of people in questionable outfits and poses had replaced wall decals of Curious George and Hello Kitty. It was messy as always. Clothes, jewelry and what he presumed were hair accessories were lying around. Truth be told, he didn't even remember seeing most of those things on her. He didn't like that feeling, having to acknowledge that he didn't know everything about her anymore. The purple unicorn was sitting in the corner of her bed. At least one left over from her childhood. He was happy to see that she hadn't put it back into the box, that she kept it with her after the hospital stay. Maybe there still was enough of his little girl hiding behind the teenager that he could catch up with her before she was all grown up and gone. He took in the room one more time, fighting off a few sentimental tears. He smiled and closed the door. Daisy was right, he was too soppy.

* * *

 **A/N:** For those who would like to learn more about Hardy's and Baxter's friendship, get a glimpse on how Baxter's daughter Emma knows Daisy, please be on the lookout for another little spin off. There is "Sir Alec" already where we meet Baxter for the first time and then I'll be posting "A Unicorn In the Snow" shortly. Hope you'll like Daddy!Alec.


	10. CHAPTER 9

**A/N:** Thanks everyone again for reading and commenting. It took a bit longer than usual to update – real life kept me busy. Thanks to hazelmist who was patient enough to point out a ton of silly mistakes. Once again, I'm not an expert in police matters, I try to research stuff, but it isn't that simple to find the information you need. I hope you enjoy the latest chapter regardless… oh and I meant to mention, if I could do fantasy casting… Hugh Laurie might be my choice for Baxter ;-)

* * *

 **CHAPTER 9**

"So, what do we know so far? What did forensics give us? What's still outstanding? Any more information on that stalker? Have we reviewed all CCTV? What about the house to house? Have we identified the fingerprints in the house? What about the hair specimen? And the full autopsy report?"

Hardy paused to take a breath. His eyes drifted from one blank face to the next, until he found the DC who had given him the copies of Pippa's diary. She was squirming in her chair under his intense stare.

"You…," he racked his brain and a name popped up, "…Swenson, you were here over the weekend. What about the stalker? Anything?"

She actually paled, probably not sure if it was a good or bad thing, that he recalled her name. _God_ , was he really that awful with his team?

She stuttered along. "We've got two more statements… from people living… living on the estate. Still asking more… nothing on the CCTV… same description, probably male, hooded sweatshirt, very generic."

He acknowledged the information with a nod and turned to the whiteboard, writing things down. Another officer chimed in, possibly encouraged by him not biting off Swenson's head, that forensics reported they had found no useful tire tracks or foot marks on the path leading from the lane to the river. They, however, had confirmed that the extra two sets of prints that frequently showed up at the Gillespie house were from Claire and Lee Ashworth. Dave Thompson delivered the answer to the outstanding questions. Final autopsy report was expected by noon and the hair analysis was under way as well.

Hardy stared at the whiteboard which still contained way too little information to actually get them anywhere. He resisted the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes, still hiding the bruise and cut. He didn't really feel like answering nosey questions about his weekend adventures. He gave Tess a quick glance and a nod, indicating she could take over the daily task distribution. She welcomed the new surge force members and efficiently brought everyone up to speed, followed by clear job descriptions. There was a moment of silence after she had finished, and all eyes turned to him.

"Go on then!" he barked at them, feeling rather exasperated that he still had to shoo them away like a bunch of frightened little children at the end of every briefing.

* * *

When he entered his office, he found Baxter on the sofa, waiting for him.

"Close the door and sit down, Alec." His boss' face was drawn into a frown. Hardy was confused. He had not yelled at anyone during the meeting and there were no major new developments to be talked about in private.

"What's going on?" Hardy asked, while he plopped into his chair.

"I would like to hear that from you," Baxter stated calmly, inspecting his fingernails. When Hardy didn't say anything, Baxter got up, walked around the desk and reached for Hardy's hair. Before Hardy could move, he had pulled the fringe aside exposing the now yellow bruise and the crusted wound on his forehead. Hardy turned away.

"I banged my head, so? Why is that any of your business?" he growled at his boss.

"Because I heard a rumor that you puked all over the office on the weekend and then disappeared until coming back this morning with your head bashed in. That's why. I think I should know if my SIO suffered a head injury during a major investigation. But maybe you forgot that, _because of_ said head injury." Baxter's voice was dripping with sarcasm and both his eyebrows were raised.

"'S got nothing to do with the investigation. And I feel fine now," Hardy replied defiantly.

Baxter's temper was flaring. "What do you not understand about this, Hardy? _Everything_ has to do with the investigation at this point. This Karen White woman is looking into you and your past, as well as anything else she can find to discredit us."

Hardy was taken aback. Why would this journalist be interested in his history? That had nothing to do with the case.

"You're right, I don't understand. Why would she do that? I'm not the story here."

Baxter sighed when he saw Hardy's annoyed and incredulous face. "If we don't find who did this, then you and the rest of the police force will quickly become the story. Trust me, I've been there. They're out for blood. And if they can't get it from the killer, they will come to the next best source, you."

"Let them dig around, I have nothing to hide," Hardy countered stubbornly.

"Alec, don't be like that. Everyone has something to hide. And if you don't tell me things, I can't protect you or help you. I'm not the one who is out to get you. Why does that not get into your hard head?"

Baxter stared at him, face less angry than it had been a moment ago. "So, is there anything that I should know?" he asked, quietly and sincerely.

Hardy chewed on his lower lip. If his boss was already terrified of a minor head wound, how would he react, if he found out that his leading detective could have a fatal attack of heart arrhythmia any moment? Best bet, not favorably. He felt awful about holding the truth back, but there was no way he'd let Baxter take him off the case.

"I was stupid and tripped over my own feet in the dark. Smashed into the coffee table and banged my head rather badly. Probably had a mild concussion."

He saw Baxter's face reddening and added quickly, "But I went home when I didn't feel well and rested all weekend. As I said, I'm fine now. Missed Daisy's birthday party though."

"That doesn't make me feel better. If it's any indication, that just means that you were really not well," Baxter scoffed.

Hardy sighed, feeling deflated by the memories of the weekend. "I forgot her party, Ed. I had promised her something special for it and I didn't even remember it was happening. She was so mad at me. First time I've broken a promise to her. Feels awful." Hardy's voice had grown barely audible by the end of his words.

"But you didn't forget her birthday, right?" Baxter tried to comfort him. Hardy shook his head, not feeling like talking.

"Emma told me about the present. Sounds like it's going to be rather pretty." His voice was encouraging.

"I sure hope so, I've got a lot riding on it," Hardy admitted despondently.

Baxter took in a breath and let it out. "I'm sure she'll love it." His face sported a mischievous grin. "After all, it's my daughter who's making it."

He stood up, ready to leave, but not without patting Hardy on the shoulder. His face was serious again. "Think about what I said. If there is anything you think I should be aware of, now or in the past, talk to me."

Hardy nodded, mouth open. "I will, sir." In an afterthought he added, "And thanks, Ed."

"Don't mention it." And he was out the door, swiftly as usual.

* * *

Hardy turned to the pile of paperwork on his desk. Frustrated, he read a note that was left on his desk – the hair forensics specialist's report wasn't going to be in until the next day. Hardy felt this was all moving along at a snail's pace.

There was a complete list of Pippa's belongings now that the autopsy was done. Nothing stood out besides that the pendant that her mother said she was wearing that day wasn't amongst the things found on her body. Maybe the water had washed it away? The divers who had searched the river for anything suspicious and any traces of Lisa had not found it. But then it was small and easy to overlook. Or it wasn't on her when she was placed in the water.

The final autopsy report only confirmed what they already knew. Pippa didn't drown, although she most likely suffocated. No ligature marks were found that would indicate strangulation. As far as the decomposed state of the body let them make conclusions, there were no other wounds or signs of violence. They could not tell if there was any sexual abuse, the water had washed away all potential evidence. The toxicology report was useless, too much time had passed and whatever could have been found was contaminated by the fact that she had been in the river for what looked like three days.

Hardy tossed the file and his glasses on the desk. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, fighting a strong feeling of nausea and a headache. He wasn't even sure if this was still because of the concussion or if staring at all the rather graphic photographs that came with the report were to blame. In the end, it didn't matter, whatever the reason was, he was feeling miserable. And his heart certainly didn't appreciate that. It had been acting up on and off the whole morning, making it even harder to focus. He forced down his pills despite the nausea.

He stared out the window and let his thoughts drift, facts and images tumbling through his mind. It bothered him that they still had no idea where the murder had taken place. They assumed it must have been the Gillespie house or possibly yard, but then that was all speculation. And they still hadn't found any trace of Lisa Newbery. Neither alive nor dead. After reading Pippa's diary, a nagging feeling had settled in that they didn't focus enough on Lisa. They had so little to go by, and even less for the older girl.

He pushed himself away from his desk, stood up and grabbed his coat on the way out. There was nothing else for him to do at the moment and he felt cooped up in his office. Maybe talking to Lisa's mother would give him more ideas. This time, he went by himself as Tess and Thompson were working on getting official warrants to get the Ashworths in to make a statement about that night and to finally collect their DNA samples. They should have more grounds, now that their fingerprints were found all over the Gillespie house.

On the way to the car he noted he had three missed calls and a new voice mail. All from Emily Abbott. _Bollocks._ He had yet again forgotten to keep his appointment. He listened to her angry message, threatening him to talk to his superiors, if he didn't do what he had said and show his face in her practice. He was sure she would, so he called and rescheduled for in a couple of days. The receptionist offered to call him with a reminder, indicating that Dr. Abbott had strongly suggested so. He begrudgingly agreed.

* * *

Lisa's mother opened the door, looking just as small and lonely as she had the other day.

"Oh, DI Hardy. Didn't expect you to come around." Her face had the unspoken question written over it.

"Ms. Newbery, may I come in?"

She moved out of the doorway and let him in. They were sitting in the kitchen again, same chairs as last time. Marilyn was holding on to a mug of coffee for which he had declined her offer.

"So, any news?" He sensed the urgency behind the calm voice.

"No. We still haven't found her or any trace of her. I'm sorry," he said softly.

She nodded and some quiet tears were running down her cheeks. "I can feel she's not with us anymore. I know you can't go by that, but I just wanted to let you know."

"I hope you're wrong." They both knew she wasn't.

They sat in silence until she spoke again. "Do you think there is any truth to what the papers said? That it's her fault, that she was in on it?"

She looked at him with her watery big eyes and he was torn between being professionally non-committal, honest and lying to give her at least some consolation. Honesty won, because that's what he would have wanted.

"I don't know. Not finding any trace of her makes me believe that she might have been a victim just as Pippa, but one could argue that she could still be alive and on the run. We won't know for sure until we find her," he slowly shared his thoughts with her.

She nodded again, pressing her lips together. She took in a deep breath, finding composure.

"What can I do for you, detective? I'm sure you didn't just come here to comfort me." She gave him a small smile.

"I've read Pippa's diary. We didn't find one in Lisa's room, so I was wondering if I could ask a few more questions about her life, friends, and such. Might help us to piece things together." Especially as they had nothing else. He kept his cynical thought to himself.

Marilyn sighed and shifted in her chair. She took a few moments before she started talking about her daughter. She had finished school and was looking into becoming a preschool teacher. She loved little children. Her social life was rather typical, going out with friends on the weekend, movies, food, those kind of things. No history of drugs or excessive alcohol use. Marilyn felt confident enough that she would have known.

When Hardy asked about romantic relationships, Marilyn seemed rather uncomfortable. She had no boyfriend, but there were a few young men who had been interested. She vehemently denied that she could have ever been pregnant. Hardy knew these questions were tough on the mother, but he needed to know.

Marilyn was moving the coffee mug, making it go in a circle. There was something she wanted to say, for sure, but Hardy hadn't hit the right question yet. He squinted at her, racking his brain what it could be. A passage of Pippa's diary popped up in his memory.

"Did Lisa ever mention the Gillespie neighbors, Claire and Lee Ashworth?"

Her head snapped up. _Ah,_ he had finally found his way in. He leaned forward, indicating his interest. He waited patiently until she was ready to talk.

"Lisa liked them, especially Lee. She said they were much more approachable than her uncle and aunt. She didn't really like Cate so much and she didn't have many dealings with Ricky. But Lee and Claire, that was different. Seemed to me that they were hanging out a lot together, Ricky and Cate and them. BBQs, field trips, dinners." She looked away. "Dunno, seemed Ricky and Cate were more interested in hanging out with them than with their family."

Hardy could sense the sore spot. He debated if he should pry further, but decided against it for now. He was more interested in hearing more about Lee's and Claire's involvement with the girls.

"Did Lisa ever mention anything specific?"

"No, not really. Just on various occasions that she had a good time with them. I think she might have liked Lee because he was flattering her a lot and being a little too flirtatious for my taste. She's a teenager after all and he's a grown man." Her disapproval was clear. He couldn't quite blame her but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Did she ever say that he was doing something that she didn't like or felt forced to do?"

She shook her head. "No. I had asked her actually, because I was worried, but she denied anything inappropriate."

Hardy took in a deep breath. He felt satisfied with the information he had gained. His urge to get the Ashworths in for questioning was only getting bigger.

"We might have to ask you to come in and make an official statement at the station. I hope you don't mind?" he said when he got to his feet.

She looked up at him, eyes still watery and big. "Why would I mind? If it helps finding the killer, I'd do anything." Her voice was harsh and for once he got a glimpse at her anger that she had hidden so well thus far.

She showed him out. He was already walking down the steps, when she asked, "What happens if you don't find her?"

He turned and their eyes met. "I will do everything that I can to find her. Getting the person who did this is part of that. I won't rest until then, I promise." He could be utterly sincere about this promise, because he knew that Pippa's ghost would drive him until this case was solved. There was a flutter in his chest. Even if it was the last thing he ever did as a police officer, he would get the killer.

* * *

Before he went back to the station he stopped by the corner coffee shop to grab a cup of tea. He still hadn't brought some decaf to the station. He parked the car and climbed out, dragging his exhausted body along. He could have parked in the garage and walked the short way over but he felt too tired. His heart was still playing tricks on him and he dreaded even the smallest exertion, knowing it might make him feel even more miserable.

He was pulling out his wallet to pay, when someone put her hand on his arm.

"Let me pay for this," a familiar female voice said behind his back.

Hardy turned around and instantaneously regretted coming here. It was Karen White. He shook her hand off and growled, "No need. I'm perfectly able to do that myself."

He made sure the man behind the counter took his money and not hers. There was no way he'd let himself get invited to even something as simple as a cup of tea by some sleazy journalist.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Suit yourself. Just trying to be civil here."

"Oh, is that a new trick you've learned? 'Cause last I saw you, you sure weren't," he remarked snidely.

She let out a fake laugh. "Look at you, DI Hardy, trying to be witty. Just because I was asking the right questions, doesn't mean I wasn't being civil."

She was unbelievable and Hardy didn't even know why he was talking to her. His frustration got the better of him and he took her bait.

"Fear mongering and discrediting the police force just for the sake of it doesn't really qualify as civil in my opinion. I read your sorry excuse for a newspaper article and frankly it disgusted me how you would just throw out unfounded allegations. Did you ever think of what it would do to the parents of those girls if they read the horseshit you fabricated?" he spat at her.

Remembering Marilyn Newbery and how bothered she had been by the article, he was properly angry now. He realized too late, that that was what Karen White wanted.

"Why so upset, DI Hardy?" She was wearing a smug smile. "You could just clue me in on the investigation and then you wouldn't need to worry anymore about being discredited. Or is there anything you have to hide? Ricky Gillespie seems to think so." Her smile was growing wider.

Hardy glared at her. So she had talked to the families then or at least to Ricky.

"Ms. White, I don't know what game you're playing at, but by harassing the victims' parents and threatening me, you won't get anywhere, at least not under my watch. Leave the Gillespies alone, they've been through enough already." His tone of voice had softened, an image of Cate standing in the door of Pippa's room surfacing to his mind.

She tilted her head and scrutinized him. "This is your first child murder, isn't it, DI Hardy? How're you finding it? Must be hard being a parent yourself." Her expression and tone had changed, feigning empathy.

He snorted. "This is not about me. It's about getting justice for these families."

"A story always starts with being about everybody, DI Hardy, until you find who the real interesting person to talk about is. And sometimes, it's not who you'd expect it to be. Just like a murder investigation, don't you think so?" she replied quietly.

Hardy had nothing to say to that.

"I shouldn't keep you any longer. I'm sure you're very busy." The sarcasm was so obvious, it was almost too put on. "Enjoy your tea. I'll see you around." She gave him another smug smile and walked out the coffee shop.

On the way back to his car he couldn't help himself but to look around and make sure she wasn't following him. She was right. He did have something to hide, but it had nothing to do with the crime against these two girls. But that didn't matter, did it? Baxter's words of warning were ringing in his ears. He had been very much on the spot. If they were not able to get a story about the killer, they would get a story about whoever else was involved – the parents, the police, himself. She had tried to play on his emotions about being a parent and he knew that this might be a possible way in for her. He would have to keep his guard up around her and not get dragged into her game. Sighing, he climbed into his car. As if he had nothing better to do than tiptoe around a bloody journalist. He drove off tires squealing. He grinned. Maybe she could do an expose about the abuse of police power and traffic violations? He sure was guilty of that.

* * *

It was late in the day when he returned to the station. Most of the staff had left already. Tess was still there, finishing her paperwork for the day.

He stopped at her desk. They hadn't really talked since the birthday party on the previous day. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, trying to find the right words. She pretended to ignore him until she couldn't handle it anymore.

"Bloody hell, Alec. Quit hovering over me. Can't you just act like a normal human being and ask your question?" she snapped at him.

He was annoyed. He didn't think he deserved her snide remark. After all, it wasn't quite his fault being so spooked out over his nightmare that he fell and hit his head. And it wasn't his fault that his heart went to shit every time he got upset about something. A fact that he was still hiding from her. _For fuck's sake,_ this was all too messed up by now. He moaned in frustration.

She misinterpreted his sound as a comment on her remark. "Oh, I see. Now you don't even grace me with words anymore. Really mature, Alec." She hit the off button on her computer and stormed away before he could even say anything.

Equally angry, he didn't go after her but retreated to his office, slamming the door. He plopped onto his chair and kicked at his desk. How would he ever be able to talk to her if all they did was argue?

His phone buzzed. It was a message from Tess.

 **Sorry I snapped at you. Too stressed out. Meant to tell you I spoke to Cate G today, really need to talk to the neighbors!**

He stared at the message, unsure how to respond. He didn't feel quite satisfied with an apology via a text, but in lieu of something else he was willing to accept it. He decided to keep his answer to work.

 **Ok. Same here, need to talk to neighbors asap. Did you get the warrants?**

His phone flashed: **Should be in tomorrow. Are you coming home soon? Picking up Daisy now.**

He sighed. He still had to finish all the paperwork for the day and go through the reports about the CCTV and house to house statements.

 **Don't wait with dinner. Too much paperwork. Sorry. Try to be home before she goes to bed. Tell her Dad misses her.**

Her reply was short: **OK, will do**

He put down his phone and started typing his reports. By the time he was done, his neck and shoulders were aching and he decided to sit on the sofa to go through the reports. After being about halfway done, his eyes started falling shut. He tried to stay awake but his body won and soon he was snoring softly, head lolled back, files scattered all over the floor.

* * *

He was walking through a field of bluebells, the flowers overgrowing everything. They were getting thicker the closer he was coming to the river. He didn't want to go to the water, scared of what he would find. He knew she would be there, waiting for him, pale and blue. She for sure would pull him under as soon as he was close enough. The cold was chilling his bones and he was chattering his teeth. Something reached for him, a ghostly hand, and he slid and fell into the river, water crushing in on him. He gasped for air, suffocating, not being able to breathe. He tried to spit out the water and his whole body was aching with the effort. The pain in his chest exploded and his eyes jerked open.

He sat up abruptly, coughing, sputtering, catching his breath. His heart was racing and skipping beats. The pain in his chest was real and he doubled over, hugging his torso with his arms. He sucked in some air, desperately trying to free himself from her horrifying face and the panic coming with it.

"Sir? Are you alright? Do you need help?" There was a hand on his arm and he lifted his eyes. A member of the cleaning staff was stooped down in front of him, looking at him with a concerned face. They knew him as he often stayed late or even overnight. He always made a point of being friendly and kind with them, feeling like he needed to make up for them cleaning up after him.

The distraction of another human being around was soothing and the pain in his chest started to fade. Breathing became easier and his heart slowed down. Maybe it had been more of a panic attack than his heart? He couldn't tell anymore.

The man handed him a paper cup. "Here, have some water. You look like you could need it. Rough day, ey? Read about that poor girl in the paper. Awful. I'm glad they've got you on the case, you're a good guy." He grinned at him, revealing a big gap in his teeth.

Hardy didn't know what to say to the compliment he had just received. "Thank you. For the water and…" he swallowed, "… the vote of confidence." He shyly smiled back at the man.

The man was about to leave his office, when he turned around and looked him straight in the eyes. "You're welcome. You should go home sometime though, you know. I see you too often here at night." His face was sincere. Hardy stared after him until he had vanished to the far end of the large CID room. It was 4:47 am, no use in going home. He had missed another evening with his family.

He sighed and started picking up the files that were scattered all over the floor. He stacked up the papers in no particular order and placed them on his desk. He felt the need to clear his mind, but didn't dare to go for a drive considering what just happened. He settled for a walk instead.

The air was cool and refreshing. It was eerily quiet on the streets at these wee hours of the morning. He was the only one walking around. His feet carried him through Sandbrook while his thoughts were wandering. He ended up at the bridge over the river. He stopped and leaned on the balustrade, hands clasped, staring out on the water until the morning sun lit up the town. He wiped the tears off his face and turned back to the world, facing another day.


	11. CHAPTER 10

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. My very, very special THANK YOU goes out to **hazelmist** … for always reading, giving me feedback and support. Couldn't do it without you! Now as for this chapter… please see comment below.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 10**

A knock at his door made Hardy look up from his computer screen. He had been staring at it without even really seeing what was there. He tossed his glasses on the table and rubbed his tired eyes. He had spent the morning catching up with the work that he didn't get done last night after he had fallen asleep on his sofa.

Tess poked her head through the door and he gestured for her to come in. She walked up to his desk and placed a file in front of him, silently, eyes shifting back and forth, not looking at him. He let out a deep sigh and pushed the folder aside without even glancing at it. He stood up and before Tess could protest, he closed the door of his office and leaned against it. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked anywhere but at his wife. The silence was weighing heavy on them and in the end it was Hardy who broke it.

"Why did you tell Daisy those things, Tess?" he asked tonelessly. He finally looked at her. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed uncomfortable in her skin, perched on his desk.

"I told you I didn't. I…"

Hardy didn't let her finish. "So then she's lying? She's never lied to me before but I guess there is a first time for everything. I broke a promise and she didn't tell the truth," he snapped sarcastically at her.

Tess opened her mouth and closed it again, taking in a deep breath. She looked out of the window instead of into his eyes. "Fine. She's not lying. I was angry at you for letting her down and I might have said some things she could have taken the wrong way."

It took him two long quick steps to close the distance between them. She jumped when he furiously slapped his palms on his desk, chest heaving with his breaths. His voice was deep, when he growled at her, his face mere inches away from hers, "How dare you?"

He couldn't even say anything else, all clear thought washed away with the red hot anger he was feeling. She had betrayed him, backstabbed him and undermined the relationship he had with his daughter. He was shaking, his heart fiercely protesting the onslaught of the overwhelming emotion. He pushed himself off the table and heavily fell into his chair. Last thing he needed right now was to pass out in front of her. He closed his eyes, trying to hide the angry tears that were threatening to well up. He hated himself for being so upset but it really hurt. Maybe he should tell her.

His voice was eerily calm. "I don't think you understand how much this hurts, Tess. I would _never_ do that, no matter how mad I was at you and you know that. You're her mother and she needs you and I would never dare to interfere with what the two of you have. I…"

This time she interrupted him. "How can you sit there and say that? You _always_ interfere. It's always about Daddy here and Daddy there. You're her fucking hero who can never do anything wrong. I'm always the bad cop and whenever she needs something she comes to you and not me. Do you even understand how much _that_ hurts? You took her to the wedding after I had said no because I was concerned for her well-being and you guys made it sound like I'm being the unreasonable bitch who just wants to spoil the fun. For fuck's sake, Alec, she almost died from that stupid infection and so did you at her bedside from whatever that was that happened to your heart and you still dragged her and yourself out and I didn't even know where you went. What if something happened to the two of you?"

Her voice was sharp with pent up fear and frustration and she was just as furious as he had been. Her face was flushed and she didn't hide her angry tears. They stared at each other. Hardy blinked, leaving his eyes shut for a long moment. Her words echoed through his mind and his anger faded, reflecting on what she had revealed. It had never occurred to him that Tess might feel excluded from the relationship that he shared with Daisy. But it was changing wasn't it? Maybe she couldn't see it, but he could. He could see it because he found himself more and more often looking at the two of them sharing moments he was not part of. And yes, it did hurt. He might understand her better than she thought.

He opened his eyes. She was sitting on the sofa, staring out of the window, tears still running down her cheeks. He clambered heavily to his feet and walked over to sit next to her. Ever since he met her, he couldn't see her cry. She so rarely did and it broke his heart every single time. All his rage had dissipated and all that was left was the love for this woman who was his wife, his companion for so many years now, who had given life to his daughter and who was a wonderful mother to her.

He gently brushed his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tears. He half expected her to turn away, but she didn't. He cupped her face with his hands and pulled her closer and placed a timid kiss on her lips. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, and very quietly and softly said, "I'm sorry, my love. So sorry."

Her fingers caressed the nape of his neck and she pulled him closer, returning his kiss equally timid, their foreheads still resting together when their lips parted. Her voice was just as soft as his had been. "I'm sorry too. For everything."

Their eyes locked and for a moment Hardy felt reminded of the look she had had in her eyes the day her mother died. But then she blinked and it was gone. She stood up, trailing her hand over his shoulder and hair. "I should go back to work. Came to tell you we got the warrants and that forensics reported back on the hair specimen. Doesn't match anybody in the family."

Hardy almost physically had to shake off the incredibly sad feeling that her eyes had left him with. He scrubbed down his face with his hands, taking in a deep breath to compose himself.

"Right. I'll look over the report. We need to go and talk to the Ashworths. We should go together." There was more question than conviction in his voice.

She hesitated for a brief moment, then nodded. "Let me finish a couple of things, then we can go."

"Alright. Half hour?" He still hadn't moved from the sofa, afraid his legs wouldn't carry him. She nodded again and wordlessly left his office.

* * *

Exhausted, he dragged himself to his desk and picked up his glasses and the forensics report that Tess had dropped off. He tried to focus on it but it was hard. He was still way too shaken to be able to concentrate on the rather dull writing of the hair expert. The ache in his chest didn't want to go away and he finally gave in and took some of his extra pills. He gave it a few minutes, just letting his thoughts wander and finally he was able to settle down enough to direct his attention to work.

The hair they had found in Pippa's room wasn't hers and didn't match color and length of any of the other family members. That sure raised the question whose it could be. There were a million possibilities from Pippa's friends to the murderer himself. Or herself. Or themselves. Hardy corrected his thinking – there was no reason to believe that the perpetrator was either male or female, nor did they know if it was only one person or more than that.

He tossed the file down, frustrated. Of course as he had suspected, there wasn't enough genetic material to run the definitive nuclear DNA testing, although they said they would try. If it ended up just being mitochondrial, it would preclude any inclusion of one specific individual as the suspect. _God_ , he really did hate hair specimen.

What was even more frustrating was the fact that they still didn't know if the Gillespie residence was the murder scene. They certainly hadn't found any evidence either way. He wished he could search the Ashworths' house before too much time passed but he had nothing but his and Tess' hunch to go by. Hopefully after they spoke to them today, things would change.

* * *

"Is she still mad at me?" Hardy asked while staring out of the passenger side window. He had let Tess drive, feeling rather fatigued.

"I don't think so. She had a good time and was happy with how the party turned out. She felt bad though that you weren't feeling well."

"She shouldn't worry so much about me," he mumbled drowsily, head leaning against the window. His eyes kept falling shut, the motion of the car rocking him to sleep.

"Alec?"

He jerked awake, his heart missing a few beats already so familiar now that he barely noticed it anymore. He sucked in a breath, and moaned slightly when letting it out. He realized they were at the house. Before he could open the door, her hand on his arm held him back.

"Please come home tonight, okay? Don't sleep in the office again. You look tired, you should rest in your own bed," she pleaded with him. He looked away, feeling guilty over all those times he had stayed over at the station or had come home way too late. He just nodded and opened the door. He climbed out of the car, steadying himself on the metal frame. Ever since his earlier argument with Tess, he was feeling off and couldn't quite find his composure. Not the best situation to question a possible suspect. He balled his hands into fists, his nails cutting into his palms. After a few more measured breaths, he finally was ready to do his job.

Tess was already at the stairs and rang the bell as soon as he joined her. It didn't take long and Claire Ashworth opened the door with a broad smile on her face.

"DI Hardy," she beamed at him. Then she briefly glanced at Tess. "And… sorry I forgot your name."

Tess raised an eyebrow. "DS Henchard."

Hardy had to hide a grin over her annoyed voice. When he addressed Claire, all amusement was gone though. "We had asked you and your husband to report to the police station this past Saturday to make a statement about the night the two girls went missing. It seems you couldn't make it. We have obtained a warrant to give us a DNA sample and are requesting for you to give an official statement." His voice was sharp, borderline unfriendly, but he didn't care.

Claire put her hand on his arm and looked up with her big eyes. "I'm so sorry, inspector. We had a late start on Saturday and then Lee had to go to work and I had a client. We can't really afford to miss the income, if you know what I mean."

Hardy squinted at her and moved away a step. He hated it when people invaded his personal space. She had been rather handsy the last time they had spoken to her. It had made him uncomfortable then, and did so now.

"This is not something to take lightly, Mrs. Ashworth. You have a choice. We can have some uniformed police officers come and pick you up to give your statement and the sample or you cooperate. Have I made myself clear?" Hardy growled impatiently at her.

She smiled at him and stepped up again, tapping her index finger on his chest. "Please call me Claire. Really don't like the 'Mrs.' thing. I'll be more than happy to come to the station tomorrow. It's always nice to see you, DI Hardy." She opened the door and beckoned them in. "How about you ask me your questions now. After all you made the effort to trek down here to talk to me. Lee's not in, by the way." She winked at him. Hardy wasn't quite sure what her game was. Was she flirting with him? Judging from Tess' stern face, she probably was.

He never had been good at picking up those clues, not even when he first dated Tess. In the end, she got so exasperated with him that she threw out all subtleties and made her attempts so obvious that even he could figure it out. She had showed up at his doorstep, wearing a stunning dress, handed him two theater tickets, ordered him to get dressed up, come back and ask her out. He had been so stunned that he followed all instructions and by the end of the night they had not only had their first date, but also their first kiss. He smiled at the memory.

Tess nudged him in the side, her face scowling. He eyed her from the side, knowing her well enough that he was sure he had committed another social faux pas. He sighed and stepped inside the house.

This time Claire led them to the living room. She sat down on the sofa not leaving many choices for them to sit besides next to her on the large piece of furniture. He tried to have as much space in between them as he could but she inched closer every time he moved.

"Can you tell me what you and your husband were doing exactly on that Saturday night?"

"Sure. We had dinner together, didn't really want to go anywhere. Too tired from the week, you know. So we just stayed in, watching telly. We went to bed early," she told them smoothly.

"What did you have for dinner?" Tess asked before Hardy could.

"We had salad and steak with potatoes." She didn't even have to think about the answer. Hardy found it rather unusual that she would remember a random meal from over a week ago this quickly.

"What did you watch?" Tess followed up her previous question.

Claire's answer was equally as fast. "BBC news and 'The Voice'. We like that show. Do you watch it? This season has been really good so far." She smiled at Hardy again and leaned closer.

Hardy had no idea what she was talking about and he didn't really care. He was annoyed by her chipper attitude while being questioned relating to a child's death and another one missing.

"When did you go to bed?" Tess continued to inquire about the timeline of the evening.

"Must have been around 10:30 or 11 o'clock, I think. We went at the same time. We hadn't had a lot of opportunity to spend time together during the week, if you know what I mean." She giggled like a high school girl at her own innuendo and seemingly accidentally bumped into Hardy. He had about enough.

"When did you see Pippa last?" he asked curtly. He had a pretty good idea himself after reading Pippa's diary, but wanted to hear what she had to say.

She thought for a moment. "I believe sometime during the week leading up to that weekend. I was showing her some tricks how to do her hair properly."

"So you didn't see her at all the day she disappeared?"

She shook her head vigorously. But then she her expression changed. "Oh, no wait. I did see her. I was doing Cate's hair for the wedding. Pippa popped in her head when Lisa came to the house. That must have been the last time I saw her before…," she trailed off, putting a hand over her mouth, appearing distraught. Hardy didn't quite buy her reaction.

Tess glanced at him and he knew she wasn't satisfied with the answer either. He just wished they could have had everything on tape, made it more official. He had more questions but didn't want to continue in this setting.

"Claire, we would like to get your statement down at the police station. You said you could come tomorrow?" He was trying to be friendly.

"Oh, of course. I'm free around noon. Will you be there?" Again she leaned closer and put her hand on his arm. He got up, freeing himself from her sticky touch.

Tess answered before he could. "There will be police officers to take your statements and the DNA sample. Please try not to eat anything within the hour prior to coming by. We would appreciate it, makes for a cleaner sample." Tess also had gotten up and they were ready to leave.

On their way out, Hardy inquired about where Lee currently was.

"Oh, he's at work. If you give me your phone number I'll text you the address of the place."

"How about you look it up now and we wait for you out here?" Tess suggested. Hardy squinted his eyes at her. She was annoyed, he could tell, even if she had sounded friendly. They waited for Claire to retrieve the location of her husband's latest job and after getting the information, they left. As soon as they were in the car, Tess exploded.

"Did you have to flirt with her like that?" she snapped at him.

"Excuse me?" Hardy was puzzled. "I did no such thing."

"Sure you did. She couldn't keep her hands off of you."

"Aye, _she_ couldn't, not me. Why would I flirt with her? Besides, you know best that I'm really shit at that." His temper was rising. Why on earth would she think that of him?

"Oh, really? Is that so? Because you sure gave her a pretty smile after she indicated her husband wasn't around. I'd say that qualifies." Sarcasm was dripping off of her.

Hardy frowned. He racked his brain trying to remember what she was referring to. The only time he remotely felt like smiling was when he remembered their first date.

"Ach, for heaven's sake, Tess. I was thinking of something else, I was distracted. 'S got nothing to do with her." He was about to tell her what had been going through his mind, when she barked back at him.

"Oh, you're so good at making excuses for yourself. You probably would have given her your phone number. You better not be alone tomorrow, if she even comes to make a statement."

"You can be my chaperone if that makes you feel better. Apparently I can't be trusted. Thanks for that Tess, makes me really feel like I want to come home tonight, so that you can keep an eye on me," he snapped back at her. She just snorted and didn't reply.

Hardy kept quiet for the rest of the drive to Lee's job. So did she. He looked out the window trying to remember when they last had a conversation that didn't end in an argument. He couldn't and he suddenly felt profoundly sad over the realization.

When they reached their destination, it was him who held her back this time. "Tess, I'm sorry. I didn't want to offend you. I was totally clueless, I swear. All I was thinking of was our first date and how you made my silly arse do the right thing." He smiled at her, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm glad you did back then and I feel bad that we've been arguing so much. I don't like that. Can we not do that anymore, please?"

He knew it was rather naive to put it that way and that there was so much more to this, but there was never enough time for them to have a real conversation. She smiled at him, her eyes were sad though.

"Alec, we should talk. But not here or now. Please?" He nodded, the sad feeling from earlier in the day catching up with him.

* * *

They found Lee Ashworth cutting some wood in the backyard of his client. He wasn't very pleased to see them there and didn't hold back with his annoyance.

"You better have a good reason to show up and prevent me from doing my job. Some people actually have to work for a living."

"That's exactly what we're doing here, Mr. Ashworth," Tess replied sharply. Hardy sighed inwardly. She had taken his bait, she should really know better than that. Maybe she was feeling just as off as he had been this whole day.

"Mr. Ashworth, you missed your appointment at the police station this past Saturday. We came to remind you and let you know that we are in possession of a warrant for you to give a DNA sample and are requesting for you to make an official statement."

Lee put down the circular saw he was holding and stood up to his full height. He squinted at Hardy. "Mind telling me on what grounds?"

"Your fingerprints have been found in the Gillespie house." This was all that Hardy was willing to reveal. He was about to ask him to recount the events of the night, when Lee cut him off.

"Of course they'd be there. We go in and out of that house all the time. I don't see why that gives you the right to come after me?" Lee folded his arms over, defensiveness not only expressed in his voice.

A small pleased smile curled up Hardy's lips. He had rattled his cage rather easily.

"We're not ' _after you'_ , Mr. Ashworth. We are just doing our job and gathering as much information as we can," Tess replied matter of fact. "We expect you to come in tomorrow to make your statement about that night and to provide us with the DNA sample." She pulled out a copy of the warrant and handed it to him. He took it and frowned at it. Then he looked Hardy in the eye.

"Do I need a solicitor?" Lee questioned hesitantly. Hardy tilted his head and held his gaze.

"If you feel you need one. Otherwise…" he trailed off on purpose and just shrugged, pulling the corners of his mouth down. He knew this wasn't the correct answer to the question, but it couldn't hurt to make Ashworth squirm a little more.

"I've got nothing to hide," Lee was quick to reply, defiance ringing in his words.

 _Don't you now?_ Hardy thought to himself. The gut feeling he had when he met him last was growing. He decided to shake him up a bit more, realizing that he was vulnerable.

"So, did you like hanging out with Pippa and Lisa?" Hardy's tone was neutral, but he allowed his face to show some of the interest he had in the answer. It was a calculated move and it paid off. Lee's head snapped up and he shifted nervously on his feet. Then to Hardy's surprise his expression turned sad when he spoke.

"Pippa was such a sweet girl. I still can't believe she…" he trailed off, staring at nothing, somewhere behind Hardy. His eyes betrayed his impassive face. If Hardy had ever seen someone being remorseful, than Lee Ashworth was it. It was the briefest of moments, gone in a blink, but Hardy was sure that he had seen the guilt in him. He carefully glanced at his wife, wanting reassurance in what he had witnessed. Their gazes met and Hardy knew she had recognized it as well.

Hardy was itching to ask more questions, but he also knew that whatever Ashworth had to say would be better captured in the station. He was about to reiterate their request, when Lee continued his interrupted thought.

His voice was quiet. "I really liked Lisa and Pippa, you know. Lisa was so full of life, so beautiful. She had so many plans, everything ahead of her. And now that's all gone." An angry scowl was becoming more and more apparent with his words.

"We haven't found her yet. What would make you think she's not alive anymore?" Hardy inquired inconspicuously.

"She hasn't come back. Something must have happened to her. Don't you think so?" Lee looked Hardy into the eye, challenging him. Hardy didn't rise to it and kept his expression neutral.

"I can't comment on that. We'll see you tomorrow in the station. Don't leave town before then." He turned to leave. "Oh, and Mr. Ashworth, we can always provide you with a public solicitor, just in case you feel the need." He grinned at him, fully aware of the effect on the other man.

They hurried back to the car, both wanting to talk about the brief conversation. As soon as they drove off, Tess couldn't hold back any longer.

"Did you notice his eyes when you asked him about Pippa and Lisa?" Tess' excitement was barely concealed. Hardy was trying not to get distracted by how beautiful her face looked, flushed with the emotion, bathed in the late afternoon light.

He nodded. "Aye, sure did."

"I'd say we've got our prime suspect." She was beaming.

He hated to burst her bubble, but it was necessary. "Tess, we have nothing to go by at this moment besides our gut feeling and a fleeting moment of a look in his eyes." She opened her mouth to argue, but he didn't let her. "Hear me out before you say something. We have to be extremely careful with how we proceed. I agree, he's a very likely suspect, but we can't blind sight ourselves to other possibilities. We also need to find evidence. We have nothing to go by so far and the last thing we want is for a child killer to walk free. Do you understand?"

She frowned, focusing on the traffic, but in the end nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good. I'm glad we can agree on this. We'll get him, but we have to do it the proper way. No mistakes, no lapses in protocol. We'll offer both of them a solicitor when they come in. I don't trust Claire either, she knows something. They are each other's alibi and we have to see what we can do with that."

Again she nodded silently. They both knew that in the past she had cut corners and wasn't as much of a stickler for procedure as he was. It had gotten her into trouble and he more than once had saved her from making a mistake along those lines. It couldn't happen this time around. He didn't have to say it, he could tell from her tense body that she was well aware of his thoughts.

"I'm glad we are on the same page with this." He put his hand on her arm, but she shrugged it off. Of course she'd be annoyed at him. "Tess, please, it's nothing personal. I just want to make sure that we get the bastard and there won't be any way for him to wiggle himself out of it."

"Fine. You can stop now. I got the message," she growled at him.

He sighed and leaned back on the seat, closing his eyes. The excitement was fading and all there was left was the dreariness of the murder of these girls and the fatigue of his sleep deprived and ill body.

"Do you want me to go straight home? You look spent." There was a softness in her voice that surprised him. He was aching to rest in his own bed, but there was still too much work to do. Also, he had to go and pick up Daisy's birthday present. She was turning thirteen the day after next.

He shook his head. "No, I can't. Too much to catch up with. Gotta get something for Daisy, too." He rubbed his tired face. "Sorry, would have loved to go home with you. Miss doing that." His lips curled up in a tired smile when his eyes fell shut again and he dozed off until they reached the station.

* * *

Tess dropped him off and went to pick up Daisy from the friends she had been staying with after school. He didn't like that they had to rely on all the families in her class to help out, but they didn't really have a choice. Maybe by the end of the week things would get better.

He left a notice with the uniformed officers at the desk to expect Claire and Lee the next day and to quickly get them to the interrogation room, separate, not together. Then he made his way back to his office. He hadn't been home in almost two days and he didn't want anything more than to see his child and rest. He finished the tedious paperwork, resisting the urge to sit down on the sofa, very well knowing where that would end. He was so worn out, he needed to sleep in his own bed. The next day he was supposed to see his doctor and he didn't want to worry her too much.

He called Emma Baxter while he was walking to his car. She picked up quickly.

"Emma, it's Alec Hardy. Just wanted…" She was so excited that she didn't even let him finish.

"It's done and it's amazing, if I may say so." No hello, just pure delight over her work. "Are you coming by to pick it up? I'm at the workshop until late tonight, so anytime would be fine."

He hid the sigh. He had wanted to pick it up the next day but how could he not go and get it that evening? Emma had done him such a big favor, he didn't want to thwart her enthusiasm. He turned the engine of his car on.

"Where's that again? Can you text me the address? I'm leaving work now and can be there shortly." He put down the phone as soon as the blue tooth connected the call to the car. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Sure. Will do. See you in a bit." She hung up the phone and less than a minute later, his phone buzzed with the address. He punched it in the GPS and drove off to pick up the one thing he really wanted to get Daisy for her birthday. Tess and he had settled on a few common presents, but either one of them often got something on their own in addition.

Hardy made it there in one piece, although he almost fell asleep behind the wheel and ran at least one light that wasn't quite yellow anymore. Emma had been right, it had turned out beautiful. Ever since Hardy had seen his daughter in the purple dress at the wedding, he had wanted to get her a necklace that would match it. He usually wasn't one for jewelry, but it felt right to give her something that was more adult and would remind her hopefully of the day they had together. It hadn't even been two weeks ago but for Hardy it seemed like an eternity. He shoved away the thought that it had been the last time he did anything fun with Daisy. It was too gloomy.

Hardy carefully took Emma's work of art out of the case it was resting in. The different shades of purple and violet of the blown glass pieces were catching the light and every little tear drop shaped bead shimmered back in its own unique way. There were tiny ones and larger ones, all carefully embedded into a filigree silver necklace. There was a central circle to be snug around the neck which gave rise to the many other larger and smaller woven silvery appendages which all contained the purple glass pieces. There was one large tear drop in the middle, suspended by one long silver band which would drape down the neckline of the wearer.

It was a very unique piece of jewelry and he was extremely pleased with Emma's artful execution of his vision. After Tess had told him she was pregnant he had done something similar for her. A friend made a beautiful set consisting of a necklace, ear rings and a bracelet for his wife. Tess still wore the bracelet every day.

He pulled out his wallet to pay Emma for it but she didn't want to hear anything about it. He protested for a bit, but in the end he gave in. He didn't want to offend her, after all she had done him a big favor. When he left, he gave her a hug and a timid kiss on the cheek. He was almost out the door, when he felt her hand on his arm, holding him back.

"How're you holding up, by the way? Dad told me that this case has been getting to all of you guys at the station," she asked gently. He stared at her blankly for a moment. What could he tell her? The truth was overwhelming and he couldn't risk it, not with the daughter of his boss, but a lie seemed wrong.

When he didn't speak, she continued, hesitation in her voice. "You know, while I was receiving the chemo and everything else, I spent a lot of time around people who were really ill. After a while you learn how to see signs of it." She found his eyes. "I haven't seen you in a while, but something's different about you and it worries me. Are you okay?" Her voice was quiet and gentle, laced with genuine concern.

Hardy pressed his lips to a thin line. There had been so many lies already, what difference would one more make? She couldn't find out because of who her father was. She must have read his mind.

"It's alright. You don't have to say anything. I know how hard it is to share, been there. I wouldn't tell Dad, I respect other people's privacy because I also understand the need for that. Just don't keep it all to yourself, it eats away at you, believe me. I made that mistake. It's not good to be lonely in a situation like that. If you ever need to chat, I'm around. Okay?" She smiled at him and squeezed his arm.

He managed to say thank you without sounding too shaken. Once he made it back to his car, it took him several minutes and some more pills to calm down enough to be able to drive home. Tess had said, they should talk. She was right, they sure needed to.

* * *

Hardy reached his house and it was late already. To his pleasant surprise, Daisy and Tess had waited with dinner for him. His appetite was poor but he forced himself to eat at least something. He was so exhausted he barely followed the conversation at the table. His heart hadn't really slowed down ever since earlier in the day and he was feeling more and more short of breath. His head was resting in his palm and he didn't realize his eyes were falling shut until his head slipped and he jerked awake.

"Jeez, Alec. Go to bed. You're falling asleep at the table like a little kid." Tess voice was playful, trying to make light of the moment for the sake of Daisy who was eyeing her father with concern.

"Dad, did you get any sleep last night?" Daisy asked sternly.

He shook his head. "Not much, darlin'." A weary smile played over his lips.

"Then you better go to bed right now, no stalling." She sounded all grown up and like a parent. She got up from her chair and made him do the same. Vertigo almost tilted his world upside down and he held on to the back of his chair, hoping they wouldn't notice. He took in a few steadying breaths and then let Daisy usher him out of the room.

Tess was grinning at them. "Don't forget to read him a bedtime story," she joked.

"He's been a naughty boy and doesn't deserve a story," Daisy replied, pushing him out the door.

"Oi, not fair." He meant to say more, but was too short of breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and by now the slight tugging had turned into pain, extending down his left arm. He was worried he might not be able to make it up the stairs, but somehow he managed to pull himself together just enough. He heavily fell on his bed. Daisy kissed him on the cheek and wished him a good night, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her.

"Lights out Dad. Don't sleep in your clothes again," Daisy yelled from the hallway.

It cost him all the energy that he had left to peel of his shirt and trousers. He fished out his phone and pills from his pocket and swallowed some more. He fell asleep before he could even notice any effect they might have had.

* * *

Severe pain in his chest woke him up. He felt disoriented and was struggling to breathe. He had had another nightmare, drowning in the river, Pippa's face turning into Daisy's. This was different from the night before though. This time he knew without a doubt it was his heart. He looked over to see if Tess had woken up, but she was sleeping peacefully next to him. He didn't have time to feel relieved as another wave of pain threatened to overwhelm him. His heart was still racing along just as fast as it had the whole day long. Something was clearly wrong more so than it had been. He couldn't afford to panic, but of course he did. He tried to sit up, only to fall back onto his pillow. The vertigo was still there and his vision was closing in. He rolled to his side, moaning with the pain and exertion. He blindly patted for his pills and found them in the nightstand drawer.

Tess stirred in her sleep, mumbling, "What's going on?"

He sucked in some air, hoping not to sound too breathless, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

She groaned and wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, pulling it away from him. His T-shirt and underwear were soaked in sweat and he shivered in the cool air. He gagged down his medication, staring at the ceiling, panting, waiting for the pain to ease up. It didn't. He fumbled for his phone. The numbers on the display were swimming in front of him and it took him a moment to recognize the time, 4:47 am. Was it too early to call his doctor? Or an ambulance? He was panicking more and more. In his foggy mind it dawned on him, he should wake up Tess, but unable to think clearly, all he could do was be scared about what she would say. Paralyzed by his irrational fear and inability to form a coherent thought, he was lying in his bed for a long time until finally his heart went from beating way too fast to taking a long pause. The black was closing in on him and he was sure this would be the end, but right before he felt himself passing out, his heart jolted and began to trudge along at a more normal speed.

His ragged breaths eventually woke up Tess. She rolled over and as soon as she saw him, she sat up, face worried. "Alec, what's happening? You look awful."

His voice was trembling. "I… I was dreaming I was drowning again… pulling Pippa out of the water." It wasn't untrue, but the omission of everything that happened after made it into yet another lie.

She brushed his sweat soaked fringe out of his face. "Good lord. That must have been some nightmare. You look like a ghost yourself. You sure you're okay? Nothing else the matter?" she pried, not buying his story entirely.

He sucked in another breath and tried to sit up. The ache in his chest was still present, but nothing like the excruciating pain from before. "Erm… it wasn't Pippa I pulled out of the water… it was Daisy," he explained with a toneless voice.

Tess' eyes widened. "Oh, Alec," she whispered. She moved closer and put her hand on his arm. Her touch soothed him and he closed his eyes, trying to recover from what felt like his heart had finally given out on him. His breathing calmed down and the pain subsided completely. He was utterly exhausted and the day hadn't even begun. Leaving his eyes closed he allowed himself to drift off into a fitful slumber until eventually his phone woke him up. It was a call from his doctor's office reminding him about his appointment later that day. After last night's events his memory didn't need to be jogged. He was scared enough to not want to wait any longer to talk to Emily Abbott. He just needed to make it through the day until then.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have to admit I never thought I would write Alec and Tess kissing even if it was very chaste and timid… I started writing that scene and then the characters just kind of took over, especially Alec who still is so much in love with his wife. I wrote it and I teared up because it ended up being a good bye scene and I didn't intend on doing it that way. They were supposed to be fighting… as I said, Alec took over. Just remember, Alec still has a lot of feelings for her and he hasn't figured out yet what's going on and Tess… oh well, she's not a flawless human being that's for sure but at some point I think she did love our grumpy Scott and some of that might still be around. As she said in the show "I loved you for that" but as Hardy tells her so astutely "But not enough".

Alright, enough of self-explanation… I hope you still enjoyed the chapter despite the unexpected Alec and Tess moment. Thanks for sticking with the story.


	12. CHAPTER 11

**A/N:** I apologize for the delay in updating. RL was jealous of Alec Hardy and had serious issues with hogging all my time this past week or so. But finally, I stole some time and here it is… it's a Wednesday and Alec is trying to keep things together… hope you enjoy the continuation of the saga. Again, I am no expert in police work, but I try… thanks for reading and commenting! And of course my heartfelt THANK YOU to my faithful beta hazelmist who is absolutely precious – you rock!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 11**

"That bloody woman!" Hardy cursed, tossing down the receiver of his office phone. He jumped up from his chair and stormed out of the door.

"Did you know that this journalist has been harassing the Gillespies?" Hardy yelled across the room, addressing Tess and Thompson who were sitting at their desks. They both looked up, surprise on their faces. He came to a halt in front of them, hands on his hips, heart racing with the anger that was boiling inside him.

"The family liaison officer just called me. Says this Karen White woman has been hanging around the estate and accosted Cate in the supermarket today. He wasn't there because he was at the house, but when Cate came home crying and all flustered he found out why. Seems she has been calling them as well. Did any of them ever mention it to you?"

Tess and Thompson exchanged a glance and shook their heads. She was the one who spoke. "No, nobody ever said anything. I assumed the press would be after them, but as we haven't had any issues with journalists showing up at their house, we thought maybe not this time."

Hardy snorted. "Really? You thought the bloody press would let go of a juicy story like this?" he snapped at them.

Tess' eyebrow went up. "Alec, there is no reason to yell at us. You didn't know either after all," she replied coldly. They glared at each other for a few moments. He hated it when she called him out on things, especially in front of everyone. Being his wife, she often overstepped her professional boundaries and at times was borderline disrespectful to his position as her boss.

With a low voice he growled at them, "I didn't know because you lot didn't do your jobs properly to stay on top of these things. Did you ever even ask the family about the press? Did you even think that this might become an issue?" Taking in their blank faces, he continued, "Thought so. Make sure that doesn't happen again. You two are the lead DS on this case and if you can't perform, I can find somebody else. Have I made myself clear?"

They both nodded and kept their mouths shut. They knew they had messed up and there wasn't much to argue about. He was sure that he would have to pay for this later at home. But for now, it was necessary. Everything that had been driving this investigation was coming from him and it was wearing him down. It wasn't that he couldn't do it by himself, but a complex case needed more than one set of eyes. Somewhere at the back of his brain, a nagging voice told him that this time around, he might soon have to hand over things anyways, if his heart continued to act like it had last night.

Without another word, he turned around to go back to his office. He closed the door behind him and shut the blinds. Then he laid down on his sofa. Last night's events still had a strong hold over him and the fatigue was too much to fight. He had a couple of hours before he expected Claire to come in, maybe he could rest a bit. He had just about drifted off, when a knock on his door jolted him awake and expectedly set off his already strained heart. With some effort he sat up, heart still pounding away, reminding him of what happened only a few hours ago.

When Baxter entered, Hardy cursed under his breath. This sure wasn't the most opportune time to have a chat with his very perceptive superior who happened to know him rather well. He desperately tried to calm himself down with moderate success.

If Baxter was surprised to find him on the sofa, he didn't let on. He squinted his eyes at him and sat down in one of the chairs, pulling it closer to where Hardy was sitting.

"I hear you're bringing in those neighbors for questioning and DNA sampling. Any reason to believe they are suspects?" he asked casually.

"Aye, the man, Lee Ashworth. We think he might be. The woman, Claire, we are not sure yet."

Baxter shifted in his chair, interest sparked. "What's your reasoning?"

Hardy chewed his lower lip. His boss wasn't that fond of hunches if there was no hard evidence to back them up. "He had access to the house, his fingerprints are everywhere. Pippa spent a lot of time with him. Lisa liked him too."

Baxter frowned. "That's really not a lot, Hardy. There must be something else."

Hardy squirmed on the sofa, dragged his hands over his face, and finally confessed. "Fine. It's a hunch. The way he's been acting, saying things. I asked him if he liked hanging out with the girls and when he spoke about Pippa he had guilt written all over his face. Tess and I both noted it."

Baxter interrupted him before he could go on, the furrow on his forehead getting deeper. "You know what I think about that. Can't build a murder investigation on gut feelings." He paused for a moment, looking him up and down. Then he sighed. "I should really not say this, but I've learned over time that your hunches seem to be rather accurate, so I'm willing to roll with it. Question them, get your evidence, so we can get the bastards who did this behind bars."

Hardy felt relieved that his boss had not shot him down right from the start. His heart rate had calmed down, but the tightness in his chest was still present, and before he could suppress the gesture, he found himself rubbing his sternum, face scrunched up. It didn't go unnoticed. Baxter leaned forward on his chair and scrutinized him.

"You alright?" Worry was making his voice sharp.

"'M fine." Hardy didn't volunteer more, not trusting himself. He made a point to relax his face and to breathe normally. It was hard, but he managed.

"Really? Because you sure could have fooled me. Noted that already this morning in the briefing. Thought you were going to fall over any moment. What's going on with you, Hardy? Every day you look more and more like shit."

"Oi, thanks for that. Very flattering." Hardy tried sarcasm to deflect but judging from Baxter's face it wasn't quite working. "I've been under the weather, maybe caught a stomach bug or something. Didn't sleep well last night." It was a lie and a bad one to say the least, but Pippa's ghost was sitting next to him, not allowing for the truth to come out.

Baxter raised his brow and was eyeing him suspiciously. "A stomach bug? Seriously Hardy, next you're telling me your dog ate your homework. You've got to do better than that."

"'M fine, Ed. Just a little worn out. That's all. The weekend didn't really help. I'll make sure to get some rest tonight. That should do it, no?" Hardy was hoping he could appease him with showing that he was going to take care of himself.

Baxter looked at him for a long time, face impassive. Eventually he got up. "I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you're not better by tomorrow, I'm taking you off this case until your 'stomach bug' has blown over."

"You can't do that, Ed," Hardy said quietly. "Tess and Dave Thompson didn't even know that the press was hunting down the Gillespies. Any development we had so far came from my end. I don't think they would be able to run this by themselves. I'm the most experienced officer for the job and you know it. If we want to catch these bastards, you've got me or nothing." He was dead serious. He never had been that straightforward about his abilities and didn't really want to toot his own horn, but he felt he had no choice.

"That might be the case, Alec, but as I've told you before, you need to be able to last till the end. Otherwise all your talents are no good. And right now I'm not so sure about what's going on with you. I'm willing to watch it a bit longer, but I'm giving you a fair warning. I'm always there to back you up but you have to work with me, is that clear?" Baxter was as serious as Hardy had been.

"Very clear, sir," Hardy acknowledged. Baxter gave him a quick nod and closed the door behind him. Hardy slumped back onto the sofa, eyes falling shut. He didn't stir until another knock jerked him awake. His heart paused between beats way too long for his comfort, but then decided to cooperate and faithfully thud along in a steady rhythm. He cursed under his breath, got up and answered his door.

"What?" he barked at the DC Swenson who ducked before she let him know that Claire Ripley had been brought into an interrogation room.

* * *

It took him until he was about to open the door to register that Claire had given a different last name. Wondering why, he entered the room and Claire turned around, a smile beaming over her face as soon as she saw him.

"DI Hardy, how lovely to see you. I didn't expect you here. Seems rather a privilege to have the lead investigator take my DNA sample." She looked up at him, eyes wide and sparkly. Tess' angry accusations of him flirting with her came to his mind and he made an effort to keep his face as neutral as he could.

"I had some more questions. But we should do the sample first. Did you eat or drink anything in the last hour?" he asked while uncapping the swab that had been placed on the table by his staff.

She shook her head and licked her lips before she opened her mouth. When he leaned in to get the sample, she brushed over his arm, leaving him rather uncomfortable with the scenario. He wished he had taken another officer with him. He labeled the swab and placed it in the evidence bag, taking more time than he needed. The sound of a movement behind him made him turn around. She was right there, yet again invading his personal space.

"Lee was really upset that you guys showed up at his work. He wasn't very pleased when he found out I had given you the address." Her voice just had the slightest quiver in it and the sparkle in her eyes had been replaced with a hint of fear. Hardy wasn't sure if this was an act or if she really was afraid of her husband. This was the second time she hinted at his temper.

"Mrs. Ashworth, is there something you want to tell me about your husband?" he probed carefully.

"It's Claire Ripley actually. I don't go by my married name. Don't like it. It's his not mine." She was rather adamant about it. "And besides, I told you to call me Claire." Her hand came to rest on his elbow again. He took a step back, gently brushing it off.

"Claire, if you're worried about him or your safety, you can trust me." His voice was soft. "We have ways to protect you, if needed."

She stared at him wide eyed, but didn't volunteer any information. Maybe this was just a game after all. If the flirting didn't work on him, then the woman in danger might. He couldn't be sure, but he was well aware of his tendency to quickly assume the protector role for the female sex. It had gotten him into trouble in the past with Tess, one reason why they now made such a point of not letting on that they were married.

She lowered her eyes, giving him a coy smile. "How gallant of you to offer me protection. Never knew that the police employed decent men. But I'm okay. Lee and I are a family and we take care of each other. He would never hurt me, not intentionally." She frowned, appearing lost in her own thoughts. Hardy noted with interest her choice of words. His gut told him there was more to this story than what she let on. He just hadn't found the right way to get her to talk. She blinked and her face brightened up. The moment was gone.

"Anyways, you said, you had some more questions?" Her tone had changed and she was all chipper again.

Hardy beckoned her to sit down and took the chair opposite her. He was glad to have the table between them, not needing to fight off the unwelcomed physical contact she seemed to be so eager to make.

"Would you mind, if we got your official written statement of what you told me and DS Henchard about the evening of April 14th for the records? If you feel more comfortable you could have a solicitor present. We offer this to everyone who is making an official statement." Hardy kept his face and voice neutral. This was routine procedure and he didn't want her to know that he didn't quite believe her.

She didn't answer for a while. He studied her face which was impassive until there was a tiny frown, quickly hidden by a smile, which appeared a little forced. Then she shook her head. He was surprised. He didn't expect her to refuse. She didn't really have a reason, unless she hadn't been telling the truth.

"Why not, Claire?" he asked softly, leaning in, placing his palms on the table. He could play games too. If she wanted a protector, he could give her one. She batted her lashes and then looked at him, her green eyes moist.

She avoided answering him and asked instead, "Can I leave now, please?"

He nodded, mouth slightly open. "Of course. I can't make you give a statement." He stood. When she was almost out the door, he held her back, gently placing his hand on her elbow.

"If you need help, Claire, here's my mobile." He scribbled his number on the back of his card and handed it to her. "Anytime, don't hesitate." She smiled at him and made sure to brush his fingers when she took the piece of paper from him.

"Thank you, Alec."

He watched her leave, leaning against the wall. He let out a long breath and scrubbed his face with his hands. Why did he get the impression that he had just been trapped in a cat-and-mouse game? And worse, who was the cat and who the mouse?

* * *

He stared at his lunch box. He hadn't seen Daisy this morning after Tess had let him sleep in and taken her to school. He read her note, trying not to get too soppy.

 _Dad,_

 _Missed you this morning. Mum said to let you sleep and I agree with her. I should give you a bollocking for not taking care of yourself but then I know, you really suck at that. As a punishment for not being good, you'll only get healthy foods today. Except for the scone – you gotta have some treat, no? Hope to see you tonight. Love you, Daisy_

Of course he did get soppy and had to hold back some exhausted tears. He wished the day was ending already and he could go home, spend time with his family. He never realized how much this part of his life balanced out the stress and exhaustion that his job brought with it until now when it seemed to be utterly missing. The past ten days had taken out so much of him and it was far from being over. It was only just the beginning. He ate the carrots and half of the turkey sandwich and left the scone as a reward for after his pills. He had been more and more reluctant to take them as they made him feel nauseated and at times rather drowsy. And it wasn't like they were helping that much, at least not the past day or so. His heart still hadn't settled down, not beating regularly for now going on more than 24 hours and he could feel the toll this was taking on his body. Begrudgingly he admitted to himself that Baxter might be right about having to take him off the case, if he didn't recover from his 'stomach bug' quickly enough. He hoped that Emily Abbott would have some answers for him this afternoon.

But before he could go to his appointment, he had to get a statement out of Lee Ashworth. Whatever Claire's game was, without getting more evidence that Lee might be a valid suspect, they couldn't move forward with the case. The lack of anything tangible that would hold up in court was driving him bonkers. One victim found in the water, the other one missing, no murder scene and no witnesses. A nightmare for anyone, even the most skilled investigators.

He fished out his pills, popped them out of their various blister packets and swallowed them with one big gulp. He leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering to the ceiling. His faulty heart was pounding in his ears and despite knowing better he listened to it until every skipped beat echoed louder and louder through his mind and every pause became more and more silent and he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to scream but couldn't in the confined office space. He jumped to his feet and paced to the window, pressing his forehead against the cold surface of the glass, desperate to calm himself down. Anger over the unfairness of life and anxiety about his future were building up inside him and in the end they won. He punched the wall next to his window, focusing on the sudden pain in his knuckles to distract him from everything else. It only worked so much, but enough so that he could regain some composure.

When DC Swenson came to tell him that Lee Ashworth was here, she couldn't have found a more stoic Alec Hardy. He had locked away all the unruly emotions, deep, deep inside him, somewhere close to the memory of his mother. He was under no illusion that they would come back to haunt him at the most inopportune moment, but for now he had found tranquility, however fragile it might be. It wasn't the best thing he could do, but it sure was the only one.

* * *

He asked DC Swenson to come along with him, preferring to have a witness around. Tess and Dave Thompson were out questioning people about the stalker that had been called in by what tallied up to now four witnesses.

He took a moment to focus before he walked into the room. Lee Ashworth was sitting on a chair, broad shoulders squared and legs firmly planted on the ground. His face was stern but did not betray any other emotion.

"Thank you for coming by, Mr. Ashworth," Hardy opened the conversation. Lee just glared at him. Hardy wasn't fazed and continued with the official business. He stated date, time, location and Ashworth's name and moved on to introduce DC Swenson and himself again for the sake of the tape.

"Mr. Ashworth the purpose of this interview is that we would like to record your official statement about the events of the evening of April 14th. You will receive a written copy for your review and signature which will then be placed with the case files. We also have a warrant to obtain a DNA sample. There are no charges being made against you but you may be called as a witness in court. You do not need a solicitor but if you feel like one should be present, the police force has public solicitors at your disposal."

He rattled down the standard instructions, never losing sight of Ashworth's eyes. He was signaling DC Swenson to go ahead and obtain the DNA sample. Ashworth denied that he ate or drank anything within the last hour and the DC went ahead with her task. He glared at Hardy over Swenson shoulder. Hardy kept his face impassive, not giving the man anything to go by. To his question if he wanted a solicitor, Ashworth declined.

Once they were done with the formalities, Hardy began the interview. "Mr. Ashworth, can you please describe to me what you were doing on Saturday April 14th in the afternoon and evening." He leaned back on his chair, one hand resting on the table which separated them.

Ashworth hesitated a moment, then spoke, voice level. "I was laying down a floor in a church, then made a supply run on my way home, worked on the floor in our living room and when I was done for the day, I went straight to shower like I always do after work. Claire was next door doing Cate's hair for the wedding. When she came back, she said she really wanted to go out for dinner, but I was tired and didn't want to, so we decided to stay in. We had dinner, watched telly and then went to bed kinda early."

"When did you come home exactly?"

"Dunno. I think maybe around quarter 'till five or maybe five." He shrugged his shoulders.

"What did you have for dinner?" Hardy peeked at his notes from when talking to Claire.

"I think it was chicken with potatoes, and salad." Claire had said they had steak with potatoes. Could just be a lapse in memory or not, Hardy was mindful to not bank more on it. He put effort into not changing his expression or body language.

"You said you watched telly. What was on that night?" Maybe Ashworth's memory would be better this time.

His answer came fast, almost too fast. "BBC news, then 'The Voice'. Claire really likes the show." That was almost verbatim from what his wife had said.

"When did you go to bed?"

Lee shifted in his chair. "I think around 10:30 or 11 pm. We were both tired." Yet again a match with his wife's statement. Hardy's eye fell on one of his notes. Claire had said they both wanted to stay in. He was very clear about that Claire had wanted to go out. Another possible discrepancy. Maybe this was actually getting him somewhere.

"Did you notice anything unusual that evening? Either outside or inside the house? Noises? People? Anything?" Hardy wanted to see if he was going to repeat his words from when he met him the first time. Ashworth didn't and Hardy smiled inwardly.

"I heard the girls talk and maybe their telly. It's not very soundproof that place," he replied promptly.

Hardy leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Is that so, Mr. Ashworth? Because when I asked you before you said that you didn't hear anything, that it was completely quiet the whole evening? What is it then, can't be both, can it?" Hardy's eyes didn't leave Ashworth for one split second.

Ashworth sat up straighter and blinked a few times, before answering. "It was quiet in the sense of that there was nothing out of the ordinary. I didn't really think to mention the usual noises."

Not a bad lie, but nevertheless a lie. Hardy allowed his eyebrow to rise. "Interesting, Mr. Ashworth, very interesting. The usual noises is rather different from nothing at all, wouldn't you say so?"

Ashworth's face was now sporting a frown. "I don't know what you're trying to get at here, but I didn't hear anything and I have nothing to do with this."

"Nobody is accusing you of anything, Mr. Ashworth. I'm just pointing something out. What was your relationship with Lisa Newbery?" Hardy sprung the question at him and it had the expected effect.

Ashworth was visibly thrown off, pressing his lips together and squinting at Hardy. "I have nothing to do with Lisa. She babysits Pippa and is often at their house. I've seen her around, nothing more," he stated, rather defensively. This was quite a different response from the day prior. Ashworth was way more neutral this time. Hardy decided to pry a bit more.

"Her mother says different. She says you were flirting with her, flattering her a lot," Hardy threw at him, voice sharper now, Scottish accent creeping in more.

Ashworth was getting angry. "That's bollocks. I did no such thing. I'm a married man and not interested in teenagers," he scoffed.

"Right." Hardy leaned back in his chair again, quickly contemplating his next move. He assumed that Ashworth would probably lose patience soon and he couldn't hold him back if he wanted to leave.

"What about Pippa then? What's your connection there?" He was hoping for another slip of composure like it had happened the other day, but luck didn't grant it to him. Ashworth's face was entirely neutral when he replied. His eyes darted to the ground and then steadily held Hardy's.

"I used to help out with driving her around. She was a busy girl. I liked her, she was fun to be around. I miss her, I think." The last words were sad and Hardy was almost convinced that he did. For the moment he didn't have much to add. What he needed to do was find more evidence and get Claire to make an official statement.

"Is there anything else you wanted to tell us, Mr. Ashworth?" He shook his head. "Alright then. Once we transcribe it, you'll get a copy of the statement to review and sign, as I said. For the tape, interview terminated at 2:37 pm."

Lee couldn't get out fast enough, leaving without saying goodbye or another look at the detectives. Hardy had Swenson deal with the tape and the sample. Back in his office he called forensics himself telling them to put a rush on the two DNA samples and specifically running them against whatever they got from the hair specimen. He wanted results by Friday.

* * *

He was getting ready to sneak out for his appointment with Emily Abbott when there was a knock. Plucking his glasses off his nose, he looked up. Tess was leaning against the doorframe, her slender body lit up by the sunlight filtering through the window. She was smiling at him. His memory tricked him and he was taken back almost twenty years ago to when he had seen Tess for the first time. She had been leaning against a doorframe just like now, congratulating him on passing the detective exam. He had been smitten the moment he had laid eyes on her, fumbling his answer like a teenaged boy would have, and she smiled at him just like now. He blinked and the memory was gone. She had stepped up to his desk.

"Where did you go, Alec? You were miles away and look at that daft smile on your face," she teased him.

"'S nothing, just remembering something," he muttered, blushing

"I see." Her voice carried the smile that was still on her face. "DC Swenson told me how well you did with Ashworth. She seemed rather impressed."

"Ach, nonsense. I didn't do anything special. He did it to himself. He was lying and a few things in his statement don't quite match Claire's." He didn't like compliments, they made him feel rather embarrassed.

"Did she make an official statement?"

Hardy shook his head. "She refused. Odd. She also hinted again at not feeling safe with her husband."

"Do you want us to work on getting her back tomorrow for a written statement?"

"We have to, especially after what Ashworth said. Just wish we could catch her before she can talk to him," he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He caught the time and realized he really needed to leave. He got up, shrugging on his jacket, slinging his coat over his arm.

"You're leaving?" Tess asked, her expression confused.

"Yup, got something to pick up for Daisy's birthday." The lie slipped off his lips way too easily for his taste.

"Didn't you do this yesterday already?" she quizzed him.

"Gotta go back, get something fixed." Like his dodgy heart. "I'll be home for dinner, I hope." He avoided her eyes, not sure if he was convincing enough.

"Alright. I'll see you later then, got a late shift today." She was turning to the door and he let her go ahead of him. He was closing his office door, when she quietly addressed him.

"Alec?" He looked up, catching something in her voice. It was that smile again that had reminded him of the past. "Good work with Ashworth."

Before he could say something, even if he'd known what to, she turned and quickly walked off towards her desk. He stared after her, daft smile returned to his bright red face, heart fluttering in is chest just like it had so many years ago.

* * *

Emily was worried about seeing Alec Hardy today. He was one of her sickest patients who unfortunately seemed to have so little insight into the severity of his illness. At least this time he had not skipped the appointment. She picked up his chart and took a look at his numbers. She frowned. He had lost weight since he was discharged from the hospital, not a good sign. The nurse had noted a normal heart rate but had scribbled _'VERY IRREGULAR!'_ next to it. She noted the date of the last attack that he had mentioned in the nurse's brief history. It was last night. She took in a deep breath and opened the door to the exam room.

He looked awful. She knew she couldn't hide her initial reaction from reflecting in her face and she wasn't even trying to.

"Jesus, Alec. What happened?" she blurted out before she could hold herself back. He looked up at her, and when their eyes met she knew that something had profoundly changed since their last meeting. He had been emotionally shaken on that day after pulling out the dead girl's body from the water, but this was different. There was a haunted look to his eyes, not to mention the exhaustion that she could also read in the rest of his body.

He dropped his gaze to the floor and didn't say anything. His hands were clasped, dangling down between his knees, fingers weaving and unweaving constantly. His normally neatly combed hair was falling into his face, covering his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stayed silent. Emily sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be easy, but then she had known that right from the moment when she met him for the first time in A&E, being literally worried sick over his daughter.

She walked up to him, pulling her stethoscope off her neck and began to examine him. His rhythm was all over the place and his way too fast thready pulse didn't exactly inspire confidence in her that his heart was doing an adequate job. His breathing was labored but his lungs sounded clear and she was content with that, reassuring her that her worry that his body might show signs of early failure of the ailing organ in his chest was unfounded. At least for now.

He still hadn't said a word, she would need to coax it out of him. She made him lie down and started placing the ECG stickers on him, a task she preferred doing herself. Most cardiologists just let their staff do it. She, however, saw it as an opportunity to spend more time with the patients to talk. She scrutinized the rhythm strip and frowned again.

"Not good then, ey?" he finally spoke, his voice hoarse and low. She found his eyes that betrayed his casual tone. He was scared and that was more worrisome than anything else.

"No, Alec. It's not good. But I think you knew that already, didn't you?" He nodded, mouth slightly open. His fringe had fallen to the side and revealed a fading bruise above his right eyebrow.

She brushed her fingers over it and he turned his face away. "Alec, what happened to your head?"

Maybe she could get him talking. He squirmed on the exam table. He took in a deep breath, let it out and finally found enough courage to tell his tale. Slowly and with a lot of pauses.

"I… I had a nightmare, about the river. It was rather… disturbing. When I woke up, I thought I was drowning… was very disoriented and sort of tripped over my own feet… fell on the coffee table in my living room… bashed my head on it. Think I might have had a mild concussion." He stared at the ceiling, avoiding her gaze.

"When was that?" she asked softly, not letting on to how worried this made her.

"Saturday morning. More or less spent the whole weekend in bed until I felt better."

"Hm. And how did your heart take that stress?" she inquired carefully. Besides her rising suspicion that the near drowning that he experienced and the rather horrific circumstances were affecting him more than he let on, she was genuinely worried about the potential danger nightmares and sudden arousal from sleep posed to his tenuous health.

He glared at her. "What do you think? It's been shit. I've been popping these pills like smarties, it hasn't slowed down for the last two days and last night I thought I was going to die in my own bed because it just didn't stop until it really stopped. That was fun," he spat out, anger and fear making his Scottish accent thicker than usual. She was taken aback by the sudden outburst, not expecting him to be this volatile. Yet another sign of how fragile he was right now. He was breathing harder and his hand wandered to his chest, rubbing it absentmindedly. She pressed the record button on the ECG again. When she saw the result, she hoped her nurses had checked the defibrillator this morning.

He snorted when she couldn't hide the worry on her face. "Ha, see? Give me my pants, will you please? The stupid pills are in my pockets." He was panting, when she handed him his clothes. He fished out the medication and swallowed it dry, not even asking for water.

"How often have you been taking those?" she asked while she was looking through her cabinet for an additional medication to give him to break what looked to her like a sustained arrhythmia episode. She probably should admit him to the hospital, but what use would that do besides create more paperwork when he was going to sign himself out at the first opportunity?

"Dunno. Several times a day I guess. I've been good about the other meds. Feels like they're not working though." He gave her a sideways glance, and confessed quietly, "It's been getting worse not better. I'm scared, Emily." His voice was trembling with his last words.

She helped him sit up and left her hand on his shoulder. She handed him the additional pills which he swallowed obediently. "Alec, we really need to set a date for that EP study so that we can move forward with the pacemaker. The medication can only do so much. It's like putting a band aid on a stab wound. It won't stop the bleeding until it gets properly taken care of. And until you get that pacemaker, you're at a real risk of having another serious attack which – and I hate to put it that way – could be your last."

He shook his head. "It has to be after the case is done. There is too much at stake," he argued.

"Alec, I'm going to be very frank with you. The only thing that's at stake here is your life. If you don't stop and take care of yourself, this case will kill you. From what you're telling me, it already has affected you to an extent that is making me extremely worried about you. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go on like this." She was trying to keep her frustration with him out of her voice, only moderately successful.

"I can't, Emily. I have to finish this case. You didn't see her." Anguish was lacing his voice and he scrubbed his face down with his hands. "I see her every night now, she comes to haunt me in my dreams. I pull her out of the river and sometimes it's not her, it's Daisy." His voice broke, tears choking him up. He was struggling to compose himself. "I can't let that go. I owe it to these families to get whoever did this. I owe it to myself. Please just help me get through this and then I'll do anything you want me to." His eyes were pleading with her, seeking permission to go on with this insanity.

She studied his face for a long time, fighting with herself and her own demons. It wasn't that she didn't understand him and his need to finish what he started, but she also knew it was going to seriously harm him, if not kill him. On the other hand, she had the very distinct feeling that if he didn't get to solve this case, it would damage him in a very different way.

When she took out her prescription pad to make some desperate changes to his medications, he let out a sigh of relief. She sure hoped that he was as quick with reaching conclusions for his case as he was with reading her.

"You have to promise me to call me, if these don't make it better. And I want to see you back in a weeks' time at the latest. Try to get as much proper rest as you can. Don't skip meals, try to take breaks and if things are getting to you don't keep it to yourself," she urged him when she handed him the prescriptions and new instructions of what to take when and how often.

He nodded and smiled timidly. "I will try my best."

"How did your wife handle your attack last night? Did she know what to do? I could call her and…"

"Don't. She doesn't know yet," he was quick to interject.

Before she could hold herself back, she burst out, almost yelling at him, "Alec! She needs to know. She might be the only thing standing between you and dying of a sudden cardiac arrest. Why does that not go into your stubborn head?" She sucked in a deep breath and continued more calmly, "What I mean is that if you're collapsing at home, she needs to know what's going on and what to do. And even simple things like not startling you out of sleep are important information for her and your daughter to have."

She sighed when she saw his stricken face. "I know it must be hard, but you can't go on like this. You need help and your family will take care of you, right?"

"We haven't really been on the best terms lately. Also, I can't tell her because she would make sure I won't work anymore," he very quietly admitted. His eyes were clouded by deep sorrow and Emily felt for him.

"Please, just tell her. Hiding things won't make anything better. It will just drive you apart even more." Remembering her brief run in with his wife at the hospital, she was wondering if it wasn't only Alec who was good at keeping things a secret, but maybe also his wife's lack of interest in what was going on with her husband that made it so much easier for him to hide a serious illness from her.

He was silent, lost in his own thoughts. She squeezed his shoulder and smiled. He jerked, eyes focusing back on her. Then he got up slowly, the exhaustion in his face even more pronounced than when she had come into the room. Her hand slid up to his neck, checking his pulse. His heart had found a more regular beat and was stronger.

"Go home and rest. Your heart has been under a lot of strain these past couple of days, it should be better now," she gently encouraged him.

"Thanks, Emily. I will. I'm too worn out to go back to work anyways," he said tiredly, his voice gravelly. They walked out of the room together.

"I'll see you next week then. Call me if you need to, anytime. My staff can get you a taxi." One look at his guilty face was enough to realize that he was still driving. "Alec, you have to stop, you're going to kill yourself."

He smiled sheepishly at her. "So you've said. I'm fine. I'll get home safe, don't worry so much."

"Seriously? How could I not?" she retorted exasperated by his stubbornness.

He snorted and let out a short laugh, patted her on the arm and left. She was very relieved to find a text about an hour later, letting her know he made it home alright despite breaking at least five traffic laws, which he claimed was a new record for him. She smiled and berated herself once again for getting way too emotionally involved with this Scottish stubborn grumpy man who reminded her way too much of her father.

* * *

What Hardy didn't tell her in the text was that the reason why he broke the traffic laws was because he almost fell asleep at the wheel. The past two days had left him utterly exhausted. Work had been taxing and the fear induced by previous night's attack was having a tight grasp over him. Emily was right, he needed to take care of this problem, this was not sustainable. After he reached home, he decided to go for a walk to the nearest pharmacy to drop off his prescriptions and clear his head a little. It wasn't too far and he took his time, enjoying the feeling of the setting afternoon sun on his face. When he reached the store, he wasn't too out of breath and felt less cornered in than he had before.

He handed the prescriptions to the pharmacist and was glad to hear that he could wait for them. He sighed when he studied the new list of medications and the growing intricate schedule of when to take what. He took off his glasses, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was frighteningly complicated.

"Do you want me to go over this with you?" a young female pharmacist asked him kindly. She smiled encouragingly and before he could say anything she took the paper away from him. "Hm, quite a production there, sir. Let me see if I can make this a little more palatable for you. Wait here, I'll be right back." She winked at him and walked to the back of the store. He felt somewhat lost, not exactly knowing what to do with himself. People normally didn't do stuff for him voluntarily until he told them what to do. He paced awkwardly between the rows of over the counter medications and health paraphernalia until she came back.

"Here, I think this might be easier to follow and read." She handed him the paper and beamed up at him with a bright content smile. He fished his glasses out of his jacket pocket and looked at her work. His face brightened because it actually made sense to him what he was reading now. A wave of relief washed over him.

"See, thought so. Much better. I would recommend to keep this on you at all times. Also, I can recommend an app for your mobile that might be helpful to keep you on track," she added excitedly.

"An app?" he asked doubtfully. His face was wearing a deep frown. "I can barely set my alarm on my phone, let alone figure out an app." He made it sound like it was a contagious disease. She chuckled.

"You're funny. I bet if you put your mind to it you would do just fine. But you're one of those old-fashioned guys, I can tell. You probably still write letters," she teased.

"What's wrong with letters? What would all of our various Royal family members do if they couldn't lend their heads to postage stamps?" he growled. That made her laugh and Hardy smiled at her, feeling lighter than he had in days.

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Let me check if your meds are ready. You could open up your own pharmacy with all of those."

He snorted. "Might need a career change soon anyways, so that's a start then," he replied sarcastically to which she just tilted her head and squinted her eyes at him.

When she handed him the paper bags, she said much more somber than before, "I recognized you from the papers, just didn't want to say anything. I would say I hope you don't put too much stress on yourself considering your heart condition, but that's probably a moot point, isn't it?" She paused and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm gonna say it anyways though, don't put too much pressure on you. You want to catch those bastards after all." She smiled again, this time shyly.

Hardy didn't quite know what to say. Kindness and concern wasn't really what he had expected as soon as she had mentioned that she knew who he was. He took the paper bags and awkwardly stumbled through a 'thank you'. He had already turned away, when she addressed him again.

"DI Hardy, good luck. I think you need it. Don't let life win." She was dead serious now, all humor gone. She nodded at him and then answered a phone call. He stepped outside, walked half way down the block and stopped to take a few steadying breaths. He wasn't going to, he promised himself.

* * *

Tess was stuck with the late shift and therefore wasn't going to pick up Daisy from a friend's house until after she had finished. As much as he missed them, he was relieved to have some quiet time to himself. He rummaged through the fridge but nothing could stir his appetite. Regardless, he forced himself to eat some salad and bread with butter, but even that seemed too much for his permanently upset stomach. He consulted the new instruction sheet and took what seemed a ridiculous amount of pills. He would have to remember to take one more before going to bed.

The sofa in the living room was tempting but he knew if he sat down he would never get up again. Before he could lose the last bit of energy, he fetched Daisy's present and searched through various closets until he found some wrapping paper. _Bollocks._ All they had was Christmas themed. He sighed and picked the one that had the least obnoxious combination of reindeers, fir trees and snowmen. He could already see Daisy bicker over this. She was very picky about how presents were supposed to look like. Hers were always perfect - neatly wrapped, matching color and ribbons with intricate bows and curly things that she meticulously arranged to astonishing symmetry. There hadn't been one birthday since she could talk that she had _not_ complained about his poor wrapping skills. Luckily for him, what was inside the rejected paper job was usually making up for the poor presentation.

He opened the box with the necklace and looked at it again. The purple mouth blown glass beads were catching the light and the silver filigree was contrasting the darker shades of the colors. It was beautiful. Pleased with his present, he smiled. He couldn't give her the birthday party she wanted but at least he made sure she received a special and unique gift. He closed the lid of the box carefully and wrapped it meticulously. His bow was almost as symmetrical as Daisy's and he felt he had done a good job. He found the nice stationary on his desk and wrote a note.

 _My darling Daisy,_

 _Many years ago on this day I witnessed a miracle. A tiny human being was born, with fuzzy reddish brown hair and wide sparkling eyes. When they placed you in my arms, I cried – I know, already soppy back then, incorrigible. Now thirteen years later I saw this tiny human being all grown up, dancing with me at a wedding, her long reddish brown hair framing a beautiful face, eyes still wide and sparkling and again I had tears in mine. I saw you in that gorgeous dress and wanted to find a gift that would make you shine even more, and I hope I did. And although you were not wearing it on that day, I also hope it may serve as a memory for this wonderful moment that I certainly will never forget._

 _Happy Birthday, Darling._

 _I love you, always._

 _Dad_

He wiped at his eyes and placed the folded paper in the envelope. He took both things to the kitchen, placing them carefully at Daisy's spot on the table. He wanted to give the present to her in person but was afraid they might miss each other in the morning like they had frequently now this past week. He fussed over the best spot and how to prop the card against the box but eventually was satisfied.

As soon as he stepped back from the table, all the restless energy that had kept him going was leaving him at lightning speed and he could feel himself crash. He was unbelievably tired and in a way wanted nothing more but to sleep, but he dreaded the night and all that came with it. He wandered around in the empty house, aimlessly fidgeting over this and that, until he barely could stand upright anymore. He should just go to bed, but he was scared to do so by himself. It was silly and childish but so real, that it prevented him from finding any peace of mind. Eventually, he sat down at the kitchen table, just wanting to rest his tired body for a moment. He folded his arms on the wooden surface and put his head down. Before he knew it, his eyes were falling shut and he drifted off to sleep.

He was walking through a field of bluebells, the flower stems snapping loudly under his feet. The river was closing in and he could feel the pull already. Then he heard somebody calling his name. He turned around, but nobody was there. He walked on and when he felt a tap on his shoulder he jumped with the sudden scare. His eyes snapped open and his heart stuttered, causing what felt like a large hand squeezing his chest tightly. He gasped for air and moaned with the pain.

"Alec, are you okay?" somebody asked. He blinked, trying to get his bearings and finally was able to focus on Tess. He took in another shuddering breath and tried to speak. That didn't go so well and all that came out of him was more of a croak than anything.

"What's going on, Alec?" she asked, her voice sharp with anxiety. She brushed his fringe out of his face, running her fingers through his hair, the other hand placed on his shoulders. The physical touch helped him to ground himself and finally he was able to speak coherently.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Had another nightmare. You startled me, I think." He was still just staring ahead, until she lifted his chin and found his eyes. He didn't know what she saw in them, but if any of his inner turmoil was mirrored then she should believe him. His heart was still racing along and he idly wondered if he had missed his night time pills.

She let go of his chin and pulled up a chair next to him. "I'm worried, Alec. This is the second night in a row, that you're rather affected by this. Maybe you need to see somebody about it? First the panic attacks in the hospital and now these intense nightmares, that's not like you." She seemed genuinely worried and he felt bad that he hadn't told her what was really going on with him. If he were not so awfully tired, maybe this would have been a good opportunity. But he barely could keep himself awake, in fact his eyes kept falling shut even while she was talking.

She wasn't oblivious to his state. "Jesus Alec, one would think you haven't slept in a week." She was closer to the truth than she knew. It sure felt like that to him. "I'm taking you to bed, you can't even keep your eyes open. We'll talk more tomorrow. Come." And with that she dragged him to his feet and up the stairs to their room. She helped him get his pants and shirt off. He was asleep before she could even put a blanket over him.


	13. CHAPTER 12

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading and commenting, especially after the last chapter. A massive thank you again to hazelmist for looking things over and trying to teach the non-native speaker proper English sentence structure. I fear it might be a never-ending task at times. I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter just as much as the last one. It's Daisy's birthday…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 12**

Hardy woke up in the wee hours of the morning, drenched in his own sweat and utterly terrified. No sputtering or choking, no screaming, just the tight claws of a horrid dream that one couldn't remember but lingered at the edge of your consciousness, haunting you for the rest of the day. His feeble attempts at calming himself led him nowhere so he clambered out of the bed and padded to the bathroom. His bare feet were freezing on the cold tiles and the chill worked its way up his bones. He shivered.

He slipped out of his underwear and T-shirt and into the hot shower. The water was running over his tired body, slowly warming him up, but he wasn't able to rid himself of the eeriness that had come with his nightmare. He made an effort to shave, but instead of experiencing the usual pleasant satisfaction, it was just laborious and felt pointless. After scrubbing himself dry, he wrapped the towel around his lean waist, tiptoed back to the bedroom, and stared into the closet. He grabbed the first shirt, suit and tie he saw, not caring if they'd even match. His hair was falling into his face, not bothering him now that he had gotten used to it over the last days while he was poorly hiding the bruise on his forehead.

He snuck down the stairs. Daisy's present was still neatly placed where he had left it. A small smile flickered over his lips. At least he wouldn't miss her this morning. He put the kettle on and tackled the task of preparing a birthday breakfast for his now officially teenaged daughter. The day she was born was etched in his memory forever.

Tess had labored for many hours and he hadn't rested or eaten anything for at least a day and a half, not allowing himself to even slip out for a minute in case Tess needed him. She had taken everything with a stoic hardheadedness that had surprised him. All throughout the pregnancy her temper had been unbelievable and she had made his life hell and heaven at the same time. He fully expected to be hit and cursed at during the lengthy process of actually bringing this tiny human into the world. But she didn't. She was quietly enduring the pain that came with every contraction, focusing on just getting through. She refused an epidural or any other medication. By the end she was exhausted and finally it got the better of her. When she cursed at the midwife that she didn't give a shit that they could see the head and that it was full of hair, but that she just wanted her to come the fuck out, he knew his wife had not been swapped for some alien person he didn't recognize.

And then Daisy was there, screaming at the top of her lungs, mouth pulled down, reddish brown fuzzy hair sticking to her tiny head. She was kicking her legs and balling her little hands into tight fists. He got to hold her first. Because Tess couldn't. She was bleeding heavily and he almost lost her in the witching hours of that morning, before they whisked her away to emergently take out her womb in order to save her life. He didn't remember much of that as he had fainted after they had handed him the baby. All he recalled was an odd sensation in his chest that he was now very familiar with and his desperate attempt at passing Daisy back to the nurse before the black closed in. He woke up, lying on a fold out cot next to Tess' empty bed. She was still in surgery, but he didn't even know what had happened. Confused, he was about to walk out of the room to find a nurse, when he heard a whimpering sound. He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned towards that wee child that would become so precious to him. Daisy was sleeping in a basinet, bathed and wrapped up in a blanket. He carefully picked her up, afraid of how fragile and tiny she looked. He rocked her gently in his arms, humming to her. She opened her eyes and he still swore to this day that she looked at him and smiled, even if that wasn't really what a few hours old baby could do. He cupped her head with his hand and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a long moment, tears wetting her rosy cheeks. Then his hand trailed down to hers and when she curled her tiny fingers around his pinky he knew he had been taken by storm.

He was leaning against the counter, his back to the kitchen door, breakfast forgotten, lost in the memory. A hand on his shoulder startled him and he spun around. Of course his heart would skip a few beats and trudge along, too slow for its own good. He pulled himself together, still leaning against the counter. Daisy was eyeing him suspiciously, not saying anything. A question was written all over her face.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm fine, just a little startled. And don't sneak up on me, ey? Wouldn't want to scare your old Dad to death." He was trying to make it sound as normal as he could, playing down the fact that he had almost collapsed after such an innocent gesture. She scrunched up her nose and growled a half-hearted apology. After a few more steadying breaths, he finally got to say what he really wanted to, distracting from himself at the same time.

"Happy Birthday, Daisy darlin'." Before she could protest he pulled her into a hug and held her tightly. He placed a soft kiss on her head, stroking her hair. When she became too wiggly, he pushed her away, holding her at arm's length, his hands clasping her shoulders. His eyes found hers and he smiled when he confessed, "I was day dreaming about the morning you were born, getting all soppy, when you came in."

She smiled back at him. "Ach, Dad. I think you're getting worse while you're getting older. You look like you're gonna cry. Stop it." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oi, I'm not that old. No respect for your father," he retorted in mock indignation. Her attention shifted to something behind him. She had spotted the present on the table.

"What's that?" She picked up the card and inspected the box closely. A frown grew on her forehead and he hid a grin. Some things never changed, even if she was growing up.

"Christmas paper? Seriously, Dad? You couldn't find anything else?" she complained. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Why don't you open it?" He was surprised how nervous he sounded. What if she didn't like it? He still felt rather miserable about the botched birthday party.

She sat down at the table and carefully removed the offensive paper. When she saw the box, she shot him a quick glance. He had sat down opposite her, not trusting himself standing. Then she opened the lid. He chewed on his lower lip, waiting for a reaction. His fingers were tapping on his leg. He couldn't see her eyes while she was looking down, but her face didn't change and he felt his stomach knot up with disappointment. She looked up from the jewelry, straight at him and a wave of relief washed over him when he saw the emotions reflected in her hazel irises. Her cheeks were rosy now, blushing with the excitement and her eyes were moist. He grinned. Who was getting soppy now? She stood and threw herself around his neck. He was glad he had sat down, as he might not have been able to withstand her teenaged enthusiasm.

"Oh, Dad, it's beautiful," she exclaimed. He wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her close.

"Happy birthday. I love you, darlin'," he muffled against her chest, hiding his tears. This time it was her who pressed a kiss in his hair.

"Can I put it on?" she asked excitedly, wiggling herself free from his arms. He nodded and stood to put it around her neck. It fit perfectly with just enough room for her to grow a wee bit more. The glass and silver caught the light, glittering. As she had told him so many weeks ago, purple was the perfect color for her. When he saw her standing there, face beaming, hair flowing around her face and neck, wearing nothing but her thin night gown and the necklace, he realized that his little girl indeed was well on her way to becoming a stunningly beautiful woman. It was too much to take and his already weakened heart did what it had done thirteen years ago when he saw her for the first time. It melted.

His legs were buckling and the room was spinning. He stumbled over to the table to catch himself on a chair. His eyes darted up and despite his blurring vision he saw the frightened look on Daisy's face. He wanted to tell her some reassuring words but failed, struggling for air.

"Dad, are you okay?" she asked. To his relief she sounded more confused than worried. She sat down next to him, putting a hand on his arm.

"'M all right, darlin'," he managed to get out in between heavy breaths. With a big effort he was calming down and the dizziness subsided. She tilted her head and squinted at him.

"Dad, I'm not stupid. That was really odd. You seemed like you were going to pass out. And you still look like shit. Have you not been sleeping again?" Her voice was full of worry now.

"Woke up early, couldn't go back to bed," he mumbled.

"We found you asleep at the kitchen table last night. Freaked me out. Mum said you had a rough day." Her hand was still resting on his arm but her grip had tightened ever so slightly with her anxiety. His attempt at a smile failed and the furrow on her forehead grew deeper.

"You look so worn out, Dad. I know that's not a nice thing to say, but I'm worried about you," she confessed. She hesitated and he could tell she was mustering courage for whatever she wanted to say next.

"It's getting to you, isn't it? The murder of those girls. I wish you could get off this case, it's not good for you," she blurted out, looking anywhere but at him. He was glad she didn't because it took him a moment to rid his expression of his own panic and fears that had surfaced with her comment. She turned back to him, tears running down her cheeks. He put his hand on hers and this time he was able to smile reassuringly. He opened his mouth, but before he could say something, she cut him off.

"Don't lie to me. Be honest. I'm old enough to not just hear some empty words that don't mean anything," she said quietly.

Hardy sighed. Indeed, she was older. "All right then. It _is_ getting to me. Because it's such an awful thing to do to anybody, let alone two young girls. And, yes, I am exhausted and bothered by it, but it's my job, darlin'. And now that I'm involved with it, I don't think I could find peace of mind until it's over, until we find whoever did this. Do you understand?" He hoped it was enough to make her feel better.

She was still crying. He took her hand and pulled her over to him, made her sit on his lap. "Listen, don't get so worried about me. I'll be fine. I'm taking care of myself and…"

"Shit you are. You _never_ take care of yourself and from the look of you, you're not doing it now either," she interjected, getting more angry now. She wiped at her tears. The scowl was back. He didn't know how to fix this and it was distressing him.

"I can't quit the case, I have to finish it. I promised the families to find the murderer and I even promised you that I would. Tell me how I can make you feel better about this. Please?" he pleaded with her.

Daisy's expression changed. The anger was wiped away with her last tears and she looked rather determined. "Fine. I get that. But you can't run yourself down like this. You've got to eat and sleep properly. No more staying away overnight. I want to have breakfast with you every day." She hopped off his lap and put the kettle back on. "And you're not allowed to fall asleep wherever you think it suits you. And you gotta do something about that hair, it's despicable," she scoffed.

He chuckled and ran his fingers through his fringe. "I kinda like it that way. I think it makes me look more like a – what's the word? – hipster," he teased.

Daisy laughed and he was glad he had broken her gloomy mood. "Dad, have you seen yourself? You're so far from being a hipster that it's not even funny anymore. You even wear a suit when you go the movies with me. So not cool, by the way."

She placed the mug that she had made for him as a little child in front of him. Her wide hazel eyes rested on him, all serious again. "Let me take care of you, Dad. You've done this for me for the last thirteen years, so maybe it's my turn now, right?"

"Aye," was all he could say, too emotional for any other words. She kissed him on the cheek and went on to make breakfast for them. She didn't allow him to help, even when he protested that it was her birthday and he should be doing this for her. She argued, it was what she wanted as a present. He finally gave up. It sure was a treat for him, getting to spend those early morning hours with her and it drove away all the lingering feelings of his nightmare. He felt happier than he had in days. And when Tess joined them for breakfast and hers and Daisy's laughter rang clear through the house, he could almost ignore Pippa's ghost lurking in the dark. The river had not claimed everything after all.

* * *

Hardy dropped Daisy off at school. He stayed a few moments longer, watching her walk in. It made him happy to see her surrounded by her friends hugging her and wishing her all the best on her big day. Just before he was about to pull away from the curb, she turned around and waved at him, breaking all her own rules of not showing any embarrassing emotions for her soppy father who tended to be way too affectionate in front of her class mates. He waved back and smiled, his heart warmed up by her gesture.

He parked the car and decided to risk getting tea at the corner coffee shop. He feared that the journalist would be there again but he was stubborn enough not to change his ways just to avoid her. While he was walking over there, his phone buzzed. It was a text from Daisy. She had sent him a picture she had taken of herself wearing the necklace and the dress from the wedding. She must have done that before they left home. Her smile was gorgeous and as he had suspected, the dress and the necklace were a perfect match. His face lit up, lips curled into an equally gorgeous smile when he saw the message.

 **Dad, don't cry. I can see you doing it. I never said thank you for this wonderful gift. I read your card. I will not forget, ever. And I love you too, always. Daisy.**

He stopped right at the door, breathing in a deeply in order to not tear up as she had ordered. Someone bumped into him. He turned around to apologize for his abrupt halt. It was Karen White and he cursed under his breath, smile and brightness gone from his face.

"Ah, nice to see you too, DI Hardy. How are you this morning? You looked happy, at least until you saw me," she greeted him. She peeked around his body, looking at the still open screen of his phone. He quickly pocketed it but it was too late.

"Is that your daughter? She's got your eyes. Pretty. Isn't it her birthday today?" she pried.

How the fuck did she know this? This kind of information about members of the police force was kept confidential. He was livid and felt his privacy had been very much violated.

"That's none of your business. Keep away from my family or you'll regret it," he growled, Scottish accent thick.

"How can I keep away from your family, if your lead DS is your wife? You sure keep that very well hidden. Anything to do with the Carter case?" she replied smugly.

He could feel himself paling. Nobody in the South Mercia Police knew about the Carter case with the exception of Tess, Baxter and the Chief of Police. He took in a deep breath and moved closer to her face.  
"What are you implying? Because I really don't see what that has to do with anything. Once again, stay away from my wife and my daughter. And stay away from my past, this is not about me." His voice was low, laced with all the loathing he felt for her.

"Did I touch a sore spot there, DI Hardy? So sorry," she added, voice dripping with sarcasm. Remembering Baxter's words, he pushed away all the anger he had and tried to be more diplomatic.

"Listen, I don't know what your deal is and why you have such a grudge against the police. We are doing our best to solve this case and there is really no need for this hostility or dragging out old things. I'll get these families justice but I don't need distraction from you or any other members of the press."

Maybe she bought it or maybe she was just playing another game, but her expression changed and with a much softer voice, she continued. "I talked to Ricky Gillespie. He's a wreck. He lost his daughter and he's losing his wife to alcohol because she can't cope. Are you going to help those parents or is this just another case for you?"

She looked him straight in the eye. Either she was a really good liar or she was genuinely concerned about the families. A brief image of Cate holding onto a glass of wine for dear life and a beaten down Ricky flickered through his mind before settling on his memory of Marilyn Newbery, so alone in all this. He dragged his hands over his cheeks and closed his eyes for a moment. Pippa's face ghosted against the insides of his eyelids.

Looking down on the ground, he quietly answered her question. "No, it's not just another case. How could it be? Who would leave a child to rot in the river? And we still haven't even found Lisa."

"See, was that so hard? All I want is to hear the real story, talk about the humans who are involved, not just facts. It's all about the families and the people who are helping them to get justice. Like you," she spoke softly.

When he felt her hand on his elbow, his gaze snapped up and seeing her smiling face, he realized what she was doing. Oh, she was good. He had almost fallen for it. He pulled his arm away abruptly.

"If you think you can appeal to me as a father and get to me emotionally, you're wrong, Ms. White," he snarled at her.

She let out a short laugh. "Why so defensive, DI Hardy? I know you don't believe me, but I actually do care about the families. And as for you – you seem qualified enough. The question remains though if being a father yourself will help you or prevent you from finding who did this. If the rumors are true, it was you who pulled Pippa out of that river and that must have had some impact on your ability to stay detached. It would have for me."

She paused to see his reaction. He tried to keep his face as impassive as he could. She was the last person he wished to discuss his experience with rescuing Pippa's body. He pulled himself together, heart beating uncomfortably fast by now and he wished he could hide somewhere and take his pills.

"I can't comment on that. It's part of the investigation. You should refrain from alluding to facts that are none." He knew his answer was weak and she might interpret his evasiveness as an affirmation of her suspicion. It was time to end this conversation that he never wanted to have to begin with.

"I think we are done here. Have a good day, Ms. White." He turned to leave, when she held him back with her hand.

"Think about it, DI Hardy. I can give you a voice before all the other journalists come down on you for failing to make any progress."

He shrugged her hand off and just shook his head. "I don't talk to the press."

When he walked away he could feel her stare burning between his shoulder blades. He resisted the urge to look back. He was sure this wasn't the last he'd seen of her. He would need to talk to Baxter about where she could possibly get her information from. She knew little of the case, but enough to ruin everything else.

* * *

There was a knock at his door and Hardy barged in without waiting for an answer. Baxter sighed and turned to face his DI. He frowned at the sight of him. He looked pale and slightly disheveled, hair falling into his face, his shirt and tie not matching. Hardy plopped down on a chair. He seemed out of breath and the scowl on his face could easily scare away a bunch of little children.

Baxter squinted at him. "Does your aggravation with life leave you breathless these days?" he jokingly said, trying to hide his serious concern.

Hardy huffed. "I'm out of shape. Shouldn't have walked the stairs. Bloody elevator takes too long." He scrubbed down his face with his hands. They were trembling. Then he looked Baxter in his eyes, a wild feral gaze burning at him. Baxter was getting worried. Something had seriously shaken him up and whatever it was, it couldn't be anything good.

"How does this bloody woman know about the Carter case?" he blurted out. Hardy was panting now and looked rather uncomfortable in his skin.

Alarmed and worried, Baxter sat up straight. "Who are you talking about?"

"Karen White, the bloody journalist." Hardy got up and started pacing back and forth a couple of times and then suddenly stopped, leaning against the door, apparently needing to catch his breath.

"Are you all right?" Hardy nodded and Baxter rolled his eyes at the blatant denial of the truth. He stood up and walked over to Hardy who was bent over, hands propped on his knees and sucking in air rapidly. His eyes darted around, panic making them wide. Baxter took Hardy's arm and led him back to the chair. He made him sit down and looked around in his office for a bag that he could have him breathe into. He found one and wordlessly handed it to his DI. Hardy took it and after a few minutes the moment passed and he calmed down. He still looked green in the face, but at least he had enough air in his lungs to talk. And hopefully listen as well.

"Tell me what happened," Baxter prompted quietly.

Hardy was staring at the floor. "She held me up at the corner coffee shop. She was there yesterday as well, trying to get me to talk to her. She saw a picture of Daisy and made a comment about it being her birthday today. I told her to stay away from my family and that's when she started talking about how she couldn't because my lead DS is my wife and that we are good at hiding that." He raised his head and found Baxter's eyes. "And then she asked if that had anything to do with the Carter case."

Baxter's eyebrow went up. There were only four people in this building who knew about the case – Hardy and his wife, the Chief of Police and he. None of them would ever talk to the press about it, so it had to have come from the Glasgow Constabulary.

"What did you say to that?" he inquired carefully.

"I again told her to stay away from my family and my past. That it's not about me. She made it clear that it was a deliberate attempt at riling me up and frankly she did," Hardy answered with a quiver in his voice that Baxter really didn't like hearing.

Baxter took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, buying himself some time to think before answering. If Karen White indeed had knowledge about Hardy's old case then they might be faced with a serious issue which could escalate quickly, if not handled carefully. Especially as this bloody woman had no love for the police force. He tried to ignore the panic welling up in his stomach. He needed to show support for his DI whose temper didn't leave him very well equipped to deal with a situation like that.

"Listen, try not to lose too much sleep over it. I'll find out who might have talked and how much she might know. You did nothing wrong back then and you know it," he said with as much reassurance as he could.

Hardy stared at him, eyes blank, possibly lost in the past. "Did I? I'm not so sure about that, Ed." His voice was gravelly and barely audible. "I took a life and it will always haunt me."

"You did what you had to do, Alec. You didn't have a choice," Baxter replied somberly. There were tears in Hardy's eyes when he nodded, his mouth open. Baxter stood and walked around his desk. He sat down next to his friend and put his arm around his shoulders.

"Try not to think about it right now. Focus on what's ahead. I'll have your back with this and I'll do my best to keep it out of the papers. I can't promise if she already knows too much, but I'll see what strings I can pull."

Before Hardy could say anything, there was a knock on the door and yet again it opened without granting permission to the intruder. Baxter was quick on his feet, moving slightly in front of Hardy to give him a moment to compose himself.

It was DC Swenson, immediately babbling away, oblivious of the situation she walked into. "DI Hardy, Claire Ripley is here. Do you want me…,"

"Next time you wait until you're being asked into the room," Baxter snapped at her and she ducked, the awkward atmosphere in the room finally registering with her.

"I'm sorry, sir. Thought you would want to know immediately." Her head was hanging down.

Hardy stood up behind him. "It's all right, DC Swenson. Just don't do it again. Bring her into the room. I'll be right there." His voice was rough, still affected by his emotions. The DC looked even more deflated, interpreting it as anger towards her. She turned tail and hurried out of the room.

Hardy sighed. "Now that went well. Another one for the _'Hardy - the grumpiest boss in town'_ collection. She's actually not that bad, just a little shy."

Baxter looked at his DI in surprise. He didn't utter words of praise very often, this was as close as it got.

"Are you okay questioning her? You still look a little flustered." He tried not to sound too worried.

Hardy ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Aye, I'll be fine," he breathed. He was almost out the door when he turned around fixing his wide eyes at Baxter. "And thanks for helping out with this."

And before Baxter could say anything else, Hardy closed the door behind him. He stared at it for a while and then went to call his friend in the Glasgow police department.

* * *

 **A/N:** The chapters so far have mostly been dictated by the days in Alec's life. As things are picking up and Alec's days are getting longer I had to break up the original Chapter 12 (aka day 12 of the case) as it would have been rather lengthy. There will be 3 parts now to Day 12. It might feel a wee bit different from the usual flow but I hope you won't be too distracted.


	14. CHAPTER 13

**A/N:** Thanks again everyone for reading and commenting. It's wonderful to hear what people think. And I'm really happy that people are following along Alec's journey. Day 12 of the investigation continues and Baxter makes a discovery…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 13**

Hardy stopped by his office briefly, closing the door behind him. His heart was thudding in his chest, adding to the unease he was already experiencing. He sincerely wished he could do something unpleasant to Karen White. Baxter had warned him and sure enough, this woman had started digging around in his past. And she had dug deep. Hardy stood in the middle of his office, frozen by the memory of a cold November morning almost fourteen years ago. It was one of the darkest moments in his career, the only time he ever had to take someone's life. And as always when the images of that day surfaced, he asked himself, did he really have to, could there have been another way? He would never know the answer.

He shuddered and shook himself free of the eerie feelings. There was a tugging in his chest he couldn't ignore any longer. Luckily, Baxter had interpreted his state as a panic attack. His boss had not been that far off as anxiety certainly wasn't making his heart condition any better. Hardy plopped down at his desk and fished out his wallet to consult his medication list. He groaned at the complexity of the task but took all of the pills he needed to. Emily's warning words from the day before flickered through his mind. Maybe he should get off this case. There was too much at stake for him to botch things up because his dodgy heart wasn't cooperating. On the other hand, who would carry on the investigation? Tess would be the only one he trusted enough and capable to go through with it, but he wasn't sure if in the end she'd be able to solve it. _Hell,_ for that matter he wasn't even sure if he was. Not enough evidence, only a gut feeling for a possible prime suspect and not many avenues left to pursue. Something had to happen as they were stuck.

A knock jolted him out of his thoughts. The door opened before he could say anything and in came DC Swenson. He glared at her and she shrank.

"Sorry, sir. Just wanted to let you know that Claire Ripley is in a room and ready for you. I've offered her a solicitor but she declined. She also insisted on only you being there with her."

Hardy frowned. That was an unusual request and it made him uncomfortable. After his last encounter with Claire, he'd rather not be alone with her. Besides, two officers should be present for an official statement.

"She said that? Of her own accord?" he asked while getting up.

DC Swenson nodded in affirmation. Hardy sighed. Maybe today Claire thought she was the cat who got to play. He was already exasperated, having no patience for the back and forth considering the circumstances.

"Fine. Get the AV guys to run the camera and tape. Can't have her make an official statement with only me in the room."

Swenson acknowledged his request with another silent nod. He held the door open for her and followed her to the interrogation suite. It seemed to take forever to set up the video, and his impatience had him pace up and down the hallway, hands firmly placed on his hips. When he got the go ahead from Swenson, he took a moment to clear his expression from everything besides stoic professionalism and walked into the room.

Today she didn't waste any time with niceties. Her claws came out quickly. "How dare you have me be picked up by uniformed police officers at work? You said you wouldn't force me to make a statement," she spat at him.

He took his time sitting down. Then he put the tape in the recorder and pressed the start button. "Ms. Ripley, I have to advise you that this conversation is being videotaped and audio recorded. For the sake of the tape, this is DI Alec Hardy taking an official written statement from Claire Ripley Ashworth. Time is 11:23 A.M. on April 26th 2012. Ms. Ripley has declined a solicitor and asked to be only questioned by DI Hardy without any other officers present." He eyed her while he was going through the motions and then turned his full attention to her.

"Ms. Ripley, I have to caution you. This is being recorded mostly to protect yourself as you requested to have only me present. This conversation will be transcribed and you will receive a copy for review before you'll be asked to sign."

He was being overly formal but he didn't want to take any chances with her. She glared at him and her eyes flicked to the camera over his head that was pointed at her.

"Why are you doing this? You could have asked and I would have come," she hissed, leaning across the table.

"You refused to make a written statement yesterday. We have some more questions and we really need you to make this official. You don't have to say anything and if you want to, you can have a solicitor present. I cannot force you to give a statement but I sure can arrest you for obstruction of a police investigation if you're not cooperating." It was a threat that in the end was not entirely legitimate but he was losing his patience. Maybe it was his overwhelming feeling of nausea due to the potpourri of his pills or maybe it was her need to play games, but he had a hard time keeping his temper in check.

She sat back and crossed her arms, looking defiant. Her lips were pressed shut. He leaned back as well, his fingers tapping on the table. He needed to choose his words wisely.

"Can you tell me once again your movements on the afternoon and evening of Saturday April 14th?" he prompted her. He didn't know if his threat fell on fruitful ground or if she simply chose to play along, but she relaxed and actually put a smile on her face. It dizzied him how quickly she switched her emotional palette.

"I left work at 4 P.M. and went straight home. Cate wanted me to do her hair for the wedding and that's what I did until around maybe six o'clock. Lee was working on the floor in the living room, we heard it through the walls. After I was done with Cate, I made dinner. Lee finished his work and took a shower. We ate, watched TV and went to bed around 10:30 or 11 o'clock."

"What did you have for dinner again?"

"Steak and potatoes with salad." Her answer came as quickly as it had the first time. Still didn't match what Lee had said. Hardy nodded, contemplating his next move. He chewed on his lower lip. He needed something to push her over the edge.

"You mentioned you wanted to stay in, have a quiet evening? When did you discuss this plan with your husband?" Ashworth had stated she asked him to go out but he was too tired. Claire claimed they both wanted to stay home. Hardy made an effort to be as neutral as possible, not indicating the discrepancies.

"We didn't really talk about it. We were both just too worn out." Her answer was short.

Hardy suppressed a grin. He leaned in on his chair, placing the palm of his hand on the table. "Your husband said you wanted to go out but he didn't and that's why you stayed home." He raised an eyebrow, a deliberate gesture to indicate his disbelief. Let her take in that information and see how she wiggles herself out of it, he thought.

She squinted her eyes and he could have sworn there was a glimpse of anger in there, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "I don't remember that conversation."

"Really? You seem to recall everything else rather well that evening, but you don't remember talking about going out for dinner? Lee was rather clear about it. So that doesn't match. Care to explain that?" he pushed on.

She hesitated only the briefest moment. "Maybe I mentioned something when I was asking him what he wanted for dinner. As I said, I don't remember."

"I see." He put a good measure of doubt in his voice. "Just for the record, if you should want to revise your statement at any point in time, you can always do that. In case your memory becomes clearer."

She shrugged. "I suppose so. Wouldn't really know why though."

"Could you elaborate more about what happened after dinner?"

"We watched telly, first 'BBC News' then 'The Voice'. We went to bed early, around 10:30 to 11 o'clock," she repeated her earlier story.

"What about next door? Did you hear anything that night coming from the Gillespie house?"

She started giving her answer but he wasn't really able to pay attention. His bum heart had chosen that very moment to betray him. It randomly skipped a few beats and left him with the familiar growing empty sensation in his chest. He looked at Claire and blinked. Her face was blurring in front of him. He sucked in some air and leaned forward, bracing himself on the table. Tugging turned into pain and he struggled to keep a straight face. With a big effort he tuned back into what she was saying.

"… heard them talk. There was TV also, I think."

"Anything else?"

"No, not really."

"Remember the last time you heard them?" he muttered under his breath. He was very well aware of the camera behind him. He couldn't afford to have an episode while being videotaped.

"Dunno. Maybe shortly before we went to bed, but I couldn't say for sure." He couldn't tell with his vision all fuzzy but she might have been squinting at him, a questioning look on her face. He hoped she didn't realize that there was something amiss about him.

"When was the last time you saw Pippa?" His words were slightly less breathless but he knew he needed to take his medication in order to stop this attack. He was going through the motions now to get down all the information she had given them before. Real questioning would have to wait for some other time. If he had not been so busy with trying to keep it together, he would have been furious at himself for this complete lapse in professionalism.

"She popped her head in when I did Cate's hair. Lisa might have just arrived at that time. I was almost done by then."

"Anything else you want to tell us?" he asked curtly. She shook her head.

"All right then. Interview terminated 11:41 A.M." He rather abruptly ended their conversation, desperate to get her out of the room before worse things could happen. "We'll get you the transcript for your review. I might have more questions. Please don't leave town in the interim. You may go now."

He knew he was being rude, but he really could care less at that point. She stood up and he stared after her when she left the room, feeling like an utter failure.

* * *

Baxter was watching Hardy interrogate Claire Ripley via the video feed. He had sent away the other officer wanting to be by himself. After his brief encounter with Hardy he was worried that something wasn't quite right beyond the panic attack Hardy had experienced. He'd rather be the sole witness if anything concerning were to happen.

He had come in at the tail end. The camera was trained at the woman, Hardy's back towards it. Having seen Hardy many times in this situation, he could immediately tell that things were off. Hardy was leaning forward on the table something he rarely did and his body seemed almost slumped. His questions were short and Baxter could have sworn he sounded out of breath, but that might have been distortion from the microphone.

The woman was being evasive and although Hardy tried a few angles she didn't give him much. Eventually Hardy ended the interview. He let the woman go with instructions not to leave town. He didn't walk her out but stayed seated. Baxter turned off the recording without his eyes ever leaving the monitor. Hardy's face was now turned to the camera and as soon as Baxter saw it he was on his feet all but running to the room. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Baxter's impression via the camera had not been wrong. Hardy's face was ashen, and he was struggling to breathe. He clawed at his chest and moaned with pain, face all scrunched up.

"Jesus, Hardy, you look like shit. What's going on with you?" Baxter waited for a response. Instead of saying anything his DI fumbled through his pockets, producing a blister pack with pills. He attempted to pop some out, his fingers trembling, having a hard time accomplishing their task. Baxter was about to grab the packet and help him, when Hardy finally managed to get out two and dry swallowed them. He slumped over, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling down. His breathing was still labored.

"Alec, I'm calling an ambulance. You clearly are not well."

Baxter was pulling out his phone when his friend managed to say, "Please, don't. It'll pass."

"Don't be stupid. I'm not sitting here watching you have a heart attack, just because you're too stubborn."

"I'm not having a heart attack," Hardy slurred, his Scottish accent making things sound even worse.

"It sure looks like that to me," Baxter threw back at him while unlocking his screen. He was surprised how fast Hardy was on his feet, snatched away his phone and then collapsed onto the floor, panting.

Annoyed, Baxter stooped down, trying to wrangle the phone out of Hardy's hand. His grasp was iron-clad. "Ach for God's sake, Alec, don't be childish and give me my phone back."

"No," Alec breathed, pale as a ghost, still frowning with pain, clutching the phone to his chest. Baxter was ready to slap him in the face.

"Fine, I'll just call someone in then." He stood and turned towards the door. Hardy clambered to his feet and held him back. He seemed to breathe a tad easier and color was returning to his face.

"I'll be fine in a moment. Please, Ed." His eyes were pleading and Baxter gave in. He helped Hardy sit down again and pulled the other chair over so he could be next to his DI.

After a few more minutes Hardy seemed to have returned to normal, although Baxter very much questioned that lately this was anything but. He had seen him struggling one too many times now for it to be blamed upon lack of sleep or food or who knows what. This was a serious problem that Hardy apparently was taking medication for. Which was still lying on the table. They both saw the pills at the same time. Before Hardy could pocket them, Baxter snatched them from the table.

"Please, can I have it back?" Hardy sounded distressed. Baxter looked at the packet. To his surprise he knew the drug. His wife's blood pressure was high and she took the same pills. Whatever stunt Hardy had just pulled, it sure didn't look like a blood pressure problem though.

"Care to explain yourself? Or are you going to tell me again this is a stomach bug?" Baxter prompted angrily, tapping the silvery plastic on the table.

Hardy was silent, staring at the pills. Then he sighed and dragged his hands over his face. Baxter slid the packet over to him. Hardy wasn't fast enough, his hands still trembling, and it slid down to the ground. He didn't pick it up. Instead he spoke, voice low and weaker than even minutes before.

"Would you mind picking them up for me? I'm too dizzy, might fall over."

Baxter's eyebrow went up but he refrained from saying anything, hoping Hardy would just continue. He bent down, picked up the packet and handed it to Hardy who shoved it in his pocket.

"I'm having some health issues," Hardy confessed reluctantly.

"No shit, Alec. You've got to give me a bit more than that," Baxter snarled. Hardy flinched. "You're taking prescription medication for high blood pressure but whatever your little spell was that you just had, that wasn't a blood pressure thing. I'm asking you for the last time to tell me what's going on or I'm going to send you to the CMO and suspend you immediately."

That got Hardy's attention. "You can't do that. Who's going to finish this case then?"

"Forget about the fucking case, Alec. I would say your health is more important than that," Baxter threw at him, exasperation growing by the second. Hardy stared at him, eyes glazed over. Then he shuddered, blinked a few times and finally focused on him.

"I'm taking care of it. No need to suspend me," he grumbled.

Baxter huffed. "It doesn't look like that to me. Every day you look worse and just now you barely made it through this interrogation. I thought you were having a heart attack, Alec. I came running because I was really worried." His words were soft now, full of the concern that he was feeling for his friend.

"It wasn't a heart attack." Hardy squirmed on his seat. This was worse than pulling teeth. Baxter wanted to shake the truth out of him so badly. Unconsciously he moved closer.

"So…?" he prompted, leaning in, now almost touching Hardy's knees.

"I really don't want to talk about it." Hardy folded his arms and gave him a defiant look. Baxter had enough. He stood up.

"All right then. Suit yourself. You're suspended as of this moment until you see the CMO. I'll let you know when he can see you the earliest." He meant every single word of it, it wasn't an empty threat.

He was almost out the door, when Hardy spoke. "It's my heart. It… beats irregularly at times. Like when I get stressed or exert myself." His quiet words came slow and with a lot of hesitation.

Baxter halted. He was filing through his recent encounters with Hardy - the moment after the press conference the previous week where he thought Hardy was going to pass out, that time when he found him stumbling over his own feet in his office, the fatigue that he had noted and had worried him all along. And then another thought came to his mind. He turned around and faced Hardy, making sure he held his gaze.

"Did you pass out in the river? When you found Pippa? Is that why you almost drowned?"

Hardy paled. After a moment he nodded, silently, the horror of that day reflected in his wide hazel eyes.

"Oh, Alec. Why didn't you say something?" Baxter sighed and sat down again. Hardy just shook his head, mouth slightly open, the distress visible on his face. "You know you can always come to me and talk. What does Tess say about this?"

"She doesn't know." His words were muted and he studied his feet intently. Baxter couldn't believe his ears. On the other hand, it sounded very much like something the stubborn idiot would do. Still, he deserved to have sense talked into him.

"Alec, you have to tell her. You can't just keep this to yourself. What if you pass out or whatever happens when you have one of those moments and she doesn't even know what's going on?"

"It won't happen. I'm taking care of it. Just saw the doctor yesterday. I'm taking my medication and I'll be fine."

They glared at each other and they both knew that Hardy was lying and that Baxter was well aware of it. Baxter was sure that Hardy hadn't told him the full truth but he also had a sense that if he pressed him more now, Hardy might clamp up and he would lose his only chance to get to him. It eerily felt like interrogating a suspect, something he didn't like at all.

He squinted his eyes at his friend. Maybe there was something else he could do. "You know, my brother Martin is actually a cardiologist. Do you want me to call him so that he can give you his opinion?"

To his surprise, Hardy's lips curled up in a small smile. "Thanks, but no. I happen to have a very competent doctor. She knows how to…" He hesitated and his ears turned red when he continued, "Emily knows how to deal with me. I drive her insane though, I think, poor woman. She's gonna kick me out one of these days."

Baxter raised an eyebrow at this revelation. It appeared that Hardy actually liked his doctor. He had used her first name, something he never did. It made Baxter feel better to know that this physician had been able to establish a relationship with this closed off man. Maybe Hardy wasn't lying entirely and he was taking care of himself for once?

"Don't take me off the case. I know I've been tired, but I need to finish this. After that I'll take whatever break you want me to, but give me an opportunity to do right by the families. Please, Ed?" Hardy was basically begging him.

Baxter leaned back on his chair, studying Hardy. If he suspended him now, his wife would have to carry on the investigation as they couldn't bring in another DI that quickly. Tess was competent but she wasn't like her husband. She lacked the final touch of intuition and reasoning skills that made Hardy into such a brilliant detective. Hardy hadn't really let anything slip through even while struggling with his health and it was obvious how driven he was to solve the case. Maybe it was fair to let him go on, while keeping an extra close eye on him. He felt like he could justify his actions not only as a boss but also as a friend who was worried about Hardy's well-being. A voice coming from deep inside his conscience told him it was wrong what he was doing, but he chose to ignore it. For now.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine. I'll let you continue. But if I see anything else that concerns me, you're out. Don't make me regret this, do you hear me?" He felt like deja vu from a week ago after Hardy had almost drowned.

Hardy nodded. "Thanks, Ed. You won't. I promise."

Baxter was about to get ready to fight the battle to send Hardy home for the day, so he could rest after what had just happened, but he never got round to it. There was a knock at the door and DC Swenson walked in. Her face was beaming and she was hugging a folder to her chest.

"What?" Both men snapped at her at the same time. She flinched and hung her head.

"'M sorry, DC Swenson," Hardy said with a much softer voice than Baxter would have expected. Hardy was actually trying to be civil. "Did you need to tell us something?" he asked gently, diffusing the harsh welcome.

Her face brightened up and she handed him the folder. "I'm really sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this, sir. I know how much you dislike hair specimen and you always tell us they're useless, but look at this. It's a match, nuclear DNA, a true match with Lee Ashworth." She was back to beaming.

Hardy's eyes widened and his gaze flicked from Baxter to her and back. Then his whole face was smiling. It wasn't just his lips, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dimples, everything. Baxter couldn't help himself but think how endearing it was that this gruff man could get so exalted over such simple news. Hardy browsed through the report until he found the spot. He tapped his fingers on it and his excitement was getting the better of him.

"Oi, this is brilliant, Swenson. Out-bloody-standing!" he exclaimed, eyes sparkling, all weariness gone. "Let's go get him in here for more questioning." He stood, ready to make his move, when there was the briefest moment of hesitation and a steadying grasp on the back of the chair. If Baxter hadn't had a heightened sense of alertness, it wouldn't have caught his attention. But now it sure did.

He stood as well and placed his hand on Hardy's arm, holding him back. "DI Hardy, let's send DS Henchard and Thompson to pick up the suspect." Hardy shot him a piercing glare and the question of 'what are you doing' was written all over his scowling face. Baxter turned to Swenson and smiled at her.

"Would you mind letting them know about the findings and that DI Hardy would like for them to go hunt down Lee Ashworth and bring him in for further interrogation? Thank you, DC Swenson," he ordered. She acknowledged his wish with a nod and was out the door.

As soon as she had left, Hardy spun around. "What the fuck are you doing, Ed?' He was livid.

"I can't have you pass out while apprehending a suspect. It's as simple as that. You seem to be still affected by this episode you had and I was about to send you home, when DC Swenson walked in on us. I'm willing to let you stay, considering the latest development, but I can't let you go out and run after a suspect." He saw Hardy open his mouth to protest, but he cut him off. "If I were you, I wouldn't say anything, but 'Yes, sir' right now. You're walking on thin ice and I might be running out of patience soon."

Hardy pressed his lips together. "Yes, sir," he growled, turned and left the room without another word. Baxter sighed. He was going to regret this, no matter what Hardy promised. The press was all over this and had already been digging around in Hardy's past. If they found out about his health problems it would be the end of his DI's career and possibly his own. It was the perfect shit storm waiting to blow up in their faces. He sighed again and left the room to hide in his office and bang his head against his desk.


	15. CHAPTER 14

**A/N:** Once again thank you to all readers! And more than a million thanks to hazelmist for being so patient and beta'ing again. For those of you who don't remember… according to my head canon Craig Murphy is "What's the point of you"- Craig that Hardy yells at so angrily at the beginning of S2… and with the image of Alec Hardy storming over a green meadow, I'll leave you with the continuation of Alec's 12th day of the investigation…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 14**

Hardy shared his boss' feelings about wanting to hide. He hurried to his office, closed the door and leaned against it, gingerly thudding the back of his head against it. He stared at the ceiling and when the tiles started to spin, he plopped down on his sofa. He scrubbed his face down with his hands and let out a long breath. Baxter had finally figured it out. In a way, he was surprised it took him that long but then it hadn't really. His boss had been onto him for a while now and today he just couldn't talk himself out of it anymore. The sense of urgency that had been settling in hit him hard. He knew he was living on borrowed time. If Baxter were to catch him in any other compromised state, he sure as hell would be off the case and out of a job. He was losing control over the situation, but maybe having had any was an illusion to begin with.

He berated himself for spacing out during the interview. He would have to go back and watch the tape. He sat up straight. The tape – what if it had still been recording during the whole encounter with Baxter? He stood abruptly. Ignoring the lingering lightheadedness, he made his way to the AV room and tried not to appear too much in a hurry. He got there, found what he was looking for and rewound the footage. A sigh of relief escaped him when he realized it had been stopped before Baxter walked into the room.

He stared at the last frozen image on the screen. It was a shot of himself, facing the camera. It was scary. His color was grey, there were dark circles under his eyes and he looked haggard. His hair was falling into his face, but it didn't obscure his pained scowl. He sat down, morbidly mesmerized by the image. How could it have come to that? No wonder that Baxter thought he was having a heart attack. He plucked his glasses off his nose and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. There was no way around it. He had to get a handle on his health. Both Baxter and Emily were right, Tess and Daisy needed to know because he clearly wasn't capable of dealing with this on his own. Taking in a deep breath, he made a decision. He would tell them this weekend. No more procrastination, no more hiding.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out only to find a text by his boss asking him where the hell he was. He sighed and left the room to find a rather irate Baxter in his office. Baxter didn't waste time with greetings, a sure sign he was upset.

"Close the door and sit." There was deep frown on his face. Hardy complied and pulled a chair closer to his boss' desk.

"What's going on?" Hardy asked, not able to get rid of the worry in his tone.

"I just heard back from my contact in the Glasgow police force." Hardy grew tense. He dreaded the answer. Baxter hesitated, which raised Hardy's heart rate uncomfortably. _Christ_ , he almost wished Baxter knew the full extent of his heart condition so he would just get it all out there and not make him wait. The anxiety might well do him in considering how this day was progressing.

"And?" Hardy prompted when Baxter still didn't speak.

"It appears that they had a breach of internet security and some case files as well as personnel files were compromised. The Carter case and yours were amongst them. It was a sophisticated job and they believe some of the information might have found its way to the press. They had other officers who were also exposed and ended up in the papers," Baxter revealed, barely able to keep it together.

Hardy lost it. He jumped to his feet and started pacing up and down in the small space in front of Baxter's desk.

"How the fuck could this happen? What are they? Imbeciles?" he shouted, Scottish accent stronger than ever, voice an octave higher than usual. "If this bloody woman puts it all in the paper I'm going to kill her."

"Calm down, Hardy. Can't be good for whatever heart problem you have to get this upset, right?" Baxter tried to be as composed as he could.

"Don't you fucking patronize me," Hardy snapped at him. His rapid breathing betrayed him though. He closed his eyes for a moment, swaying with the dizziness that still hadn't left him since the earlier episode. He realized he had to sit down just at the same moment as Baxter put a steadying hand on him. Baxter pulled him down on a chair and just watched him.

 _Fan-bloody-tastic_ , this day was going great. The damn journalist was digging around in his past, he botched up an interview and now he was going to pass out in his boss' office. _Spectacular._ The urge to bang his head against something was back.

"Alec, please try to pull yourself together. You can't lose it completely over this. I know this is something that stayed with you, but once again, you did nothing wrong. You have a case to work on and whatever was in the past is exactly that – in the past and not important right now." Baxter was kind but firm. He was right as he was so often when he tried to be the voice of reason for Hardy. He breathed deeply in and out, calming down gradually.

"I'm going to ask Craig Murphy to look into it. He's one of the best IT experts that we have on the force and maybe he can find more answers than the guys in Glasgow did. And he will keep it confidential," Baxter added when he saw Hardy's questioning look.

"Fine. If you think it's going to lead us somewhere. Still don't see why someone else other than the people who already know about it needs to be involved," Hardy growled. He wasn't very fond of the idea that more of his colleagues would snoop around in his past.

Baxter sighed. "Listen Alec, this was a deliberate act. It wasn't random. My friend in Glasgow actually thought that the Carter case was the main target of the hacking and the other data have only been taken to distract from that fact. His superiors didn't believe him and that's why we never heard of it. We'll try and see what we can come up with on our end."

Hardy snorted. "So that the whole station can talk about it, right?"

Baxter got annoyed. "Alec you're a bloody idiot. I'm doing this to protect you. If this was indeed a deliberate move to get that specific information, then I'd be very worried that there is more to it than just attempts at slandering your reputation."

That shut Hardy up. He hadn't really thought about that. It had been so long since that fateful November morning. "Why would someone do this now?" he finished his thought out loud.

Baxter tilted his head. "I'm not sure. I wondered about that too. Maybe they saw you in the paper and that triggered something. Whatever it is, we'll try our best to get as much information as we can. I'll deal with that, you focus on the case at hand."

Hardy nodded, mouth open. He ran his tongue over his teeth. "I…"

Yet again they were interrupted by a knock. They both turned their heads to the door, expecting it to open, but this time it didn't. Baxter rolled his eyes and his "Come in" sounded anything but friendly. DC Swenson peeked her head through a crack in the door. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two men.

"Am I interrupting again?" She sounded dismayed, but Hardy swore there was the tiniest bit of exasperation as well. Maybe she was getting tired of her superiors' need for privacy this whole day long. Hardy couldn't wait for the gossip to emerge _. Hardy and Baxter – new best mates in town. Don't walk in on them or they'll eat you alive._ He put his own frustration aside and tried to be friendly.

"No, you're not. Did they come back with Lee Ashworth?" he guessed.

She nodded. "Yes, sir. He's already in a room, rather angry. He asked for a solicitor to be present, so we are getting one. DS Henchard is there with him. She wanted you to know she needs to speak with you before going in for questioning."

"Tell her, I'll be right there." He tilted his head and glared at her when she didn't leave immediately. Eventually she got the message and scampered out of the room.

Hardy and Baxter sighed at the same time. They looked at each other and despite the day's events they both grinned.

"Wanna bet how long it'll take for some juicy gossip to emerge?" Hardy teased his boss.

"Twenty quid by the end of the day," Baxter offered.

"You're gonna lose. I have faith in her. She's better than that. I wager by tomorrow afternoon. When she can't handle it anymore and needs to tell someone." Hardy grinned.

Baxter's face turned serious. "Are you up for questioning this Ashworth guy? I could sit in with Tess if you…"

"No. That won't be necessary. I'm feeling better," Hardy interjected. It wasn't even a lie. His heart had been faithful enough and besides the lingering lightheadedness there had been no major irregularity since earlier.

Baxter looked him up and down and after a few moments nodded his head. "All right then," was all he said. Hardy could tell Baxter was trying to overcome his doubts.

"I'll be fine, Ed." Hardy didn't even believe himself.

"That's what you always say, Alec. And I have yet to find evidence to support that claim."

"I told you I'm taking care of it," Hardy argued.

"That sure does not inspire confidence. To quote a certain Scottish DI 'I'm shit at that' – your own words, not mine," Baxter countered.

"Fine. You're right. I'm not good at it. But I have a doctor who's on top of me and I'm going to tell Tess. Does that make you feel better?" Hardy snapped back at him.

"Maybe. I'll expect you to keep me in the loop about the heart, is that clear?"

Hardy just rolled his eyes and stood up. Baxter didn't even know about the pacemaker and how tenuous his health really was and he had no intention of telling him more until the case was done. He moved towards the door, but before he left, he addressed his friend.

"Thank you for having my back with the other issue, Ed. I appreciate that. Very much."

"Of course, Alec. You know how I feel about that." Baxter smiled at him. "Go on then, question your suspect."

Hardy smiled back. He didn't have many friends, but the ones he did have were genuine and true. It wasn't something he took for granted and he would always be grateful for having someone like Baxter in his life.

* * *

Tess was waiting for him outside of the interrogation room. She was pacing and her face had that glow that it only got when she was truly excited about something. Hardy frowned, not being very thrilled about the idea that her emotions might get the better of her. Maybe he should do the interview without her after all.

He barely had stepped up to her when she blurted out, "Alec, I really think it might be him."

"Slow down, Tess. What makes you say that?" Hardy sighed inwardly. The last thing he needed right now was an overly confident partner while needing to carefully tease things out of Ashworth.

"First thing he told us was that he had nothing to do with Lisa's or Pippa's death. We didn't even get a chance to tell him why we wanted him back for an interview."

"That's not really a good reason to believe it's him. Gut feelings won't get us a conviction, Tess. We need evidence or a confession, or even better both. And it needs to be properly done. Is the solicitor here yet?"

She nodded. "Just came. He's speaking in confidentiality with Ashworth right now. We should be able to begin momentarily. Do you want me to take the lead?" she asked confident that he would say yes.

He hesitated a moment. "No. I just finished talking to his wife and there were some discrepancies. It might be best if you let me do the talking first and add to what questions I have."

She was furious. Her blue eyes were piercing through him and she balled her hands into fists. It wasn't the first time he hadn't let her take the lead in an interview and he had his reasons why. Last time it happened she didn't speak to him for three days besides the absolutely necessary communication at work. He ended up apologizing for something that he felt he shouldn't have to but what else was he going to do? She was his wife, he loved her and he had never been able to see her unhappy. Baxter felt it was unprofessional of her to react that way. She wouldn't act like this if they were not married. Hardy didn't have the heart to tell Baxter that the wounded pride Tess was displaying had not only to do with him being her husband but very much with the person she was. But that would have been disloyal to his wife and companion. He might have been a flawed husband in many ways but he sure wasn't guilty of that.

"Please, don't get upset. We'll both do our part. Let me start and then you can take it away, all right?" he pleaded with her. In all honesty, he wouldn't have minded if he could sit back somewhat as he was feeling rather exhausted from his day so far, but his instincts told him not to.

"Fine," she growled. He put his hand on her elbow and smiled. What he really wanted to do was kiss her, but that would have been unprofessional and she would have been the first to object.

They waited until the solicitor let them know they were ready. The first glance at Lee Ashworth made Hardy cringe inwardly. The man was scowling and had his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn't going to be easy to get him to talk.

They sat and went over the formalities for the tape. Then Hardy addressed Ashworth.

"Mr. Ashworth, we wanted to ask you a few more questions in regards to the night of April 14th as well as in connection with the death of Pippa Gillespie and the disappearance of Lisa Newbery."

"I know nothing about those girls and I object to you dragging me here again. I've already told you what I know about that evening. I don't see the point of this." Ashworth sounded defensive and his annoyance was not only reflected in his voice but very much so in his face.

"I have spoken to your wife and wanted to have some clarification about a few things. Could you tell me what the discussion of your dinner plans was?" Hardy didn't waste any time. Ashworth wasn't anyone for playing games.

"I told you before, we both were tired and didn't want to go out. Claire made dinner while I was in the shower. And before you ask again and waste my time, we had steak and potatoes and salad."

Hardy sat back in his chair and rested one hand on the table, hiding his annoyance behind a stoic face. Ashworth must have talked to his wife then to get their facts straight.

"That's not what you said before, Mr. Ashworth. In your previous statement, you mentioned that she wanted to go out and you didn't. What made you change your story?" Hardy tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, mirroring his question.

Ashworth stayed silent. Then he shrugged. "I don't see why that is of importance."

"It's not for you to decide what's important and what isn't Mr. Ashworth, you're just here to answer our questions," Tess chimed in. Hardy wished she hadn't. There was no use in antagonizing the only person of interest they had so far.

Ashworth looked her up and down and then smirked at her. Hardy had to give Tess credit, she hid her fury at that well. Ashworth probably didn't notice.

"Mr. Ashworth, you didn't answer my question. What made you change your story?" Hardy didn't want to let go.

"I didn't change it. You're just twisting my words around. We both were tired. I don't remember if she mentioned that she had thought about going out or not. Maybe she said it in passing and that's why I said it the other day," Ashworth stated, smirk still on his face.

"So what was it again that your wife cooked?"

"Steak and potatoes."

"What happened to the chicken? Isn't that what you told me yesterday? You're not remembering that right either?" Hardy watched him carefully. It was a rather weak point but still. It all added up to the picture that although they both claimed they had been together, their stories didn't add up.

Ashworth blinked a few times and crossed his arms again. "It was over a week ago. Do you remember what you ate that night?" There was a challenge in his voice.

Hardy's mind drifted off for a split second. That had been the night of the wedding he had taken Daisy to. The corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. He leaned forward and looked Ashworth straight in the eye. "As a matter of fact, I do." They stared at each other for a few moments, until Ashworth looked away.

Hardy was ready to switch gears. "Mr. Ashworth, your fingerprints were found all over the Gillespie house. Would you mind giving an explanation why so?"

Ashworth briefly glanced at his solicitor who didn't seem to be of much help.

"So?" he started rather defensively. "I've been to their house often enough. I did some repairs and we also had BBQs and dinners with them. They are our landlords and neighbors. I don't see why that's in any way odd."

Hardy just raised his eyebrows and leaned in. "How often did you spend time with Pippa?"

Ashworth frowned. "I used to drive her around rather frequently as a favor to her parents. She was quite a busy girl." There was brief flicker of sadness in his eyes, but he hid it quickly.

"So you had ample time alone with her then?"

"What are you trying to imply? I didn't do anything to the girl, she's a child for God's sake," Ashworth snapped.

Hardy suppressed a smile. Good, Ashworth was losing some of the smug composure he had been displaying. He took a moment to consider his next question. He glanced at Tess, making sure that she wouldn't interrupt him again.

"Lisa wasn't. Maybe you found her more interesting?" Hardy suggested.

"I've never touched Lisa. I had nothing to do with her, so stop fucking insinuating that I did. As I said before. She's a teenager, I'm not interested in teenagers. I'm a married man." Ashworth was properly angry now.

"Mr. Ashworth, why did we find your hair on Pippa Gillespie's pillow?" Hardy asked quietly. His voice was neutral and did not give anything away.

Ashworth gaped at them. His solicitor bent over to him and whispered something in his ear. Hardy presumed he told his client he didn't need to answer that question. Waiting patiently, he stared down his suspect.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've never even been to her room." Ashworth sounded genuinely confused. For a moment Hardy almost believed him.

"We found a strand of hair on Pippa's pillow in her bed. It's not hers and the DNA is a match to yours," Hardy explained. "So how do you think it got there then, if you've never been to her room?"

"I dunno. I sure wasn't there. Maybe somebody put it there?"

"And who would that be? And why? I think you're just messing with us and you know very well how and when that hair got there," Hardy barked at him, tapping his fingers on the table to underscore his words. His heart rate shot up uncomfortably and he tried to take in a few measured breaths. It helped this time. He couldn't lose focus now.

"Isn't that your job to find that out? Maybe it was Ricky, he doesn't like me very much," Ashworth replied defensively.

"How would Ricky have gotten your hair, hm? That's not good enough, Mr. Ashworth." Hardy raised his eyebrows with the question.

"This is ridiculous. I have nothing to do with this and I'm not going to say anything else. Can I go now?"

Hardy leaned back, frustrated that he didn't get any farther with him. He knew when a suspect wasn't going to talk anymore, even without them openly stating it. There was nothing else that Ashworth would say at this point. They didn't have enough to book him either. He had an alibi, even if there were inconsistencies and a loose hair didn't prove anything, even if it was his. He glanced at Tess. The look in her eyes mirrored his own feelings. He abruptly stood.

"You can go. But don't think about leaving town. We will have more questions for you." Hardy didn't bother to wait for what Ashworth had to say and stormed out of the room. He meant to walk off his frustration but didn't get very far. Vertigo spun the world around him and he had to stop. Tess followed him and found him leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

"You all right, Alec?"

His eyes snapped open, only to see her double. It was making him nauseated and he wished he could sit down somewhere.

"'M fine. Just annoyed that we couldn't get more out of him. Wish we could book him," he sighed. His world slowly returned to normal. As soon as Tess' face moved more into focus he could tell she wasn't quite buying that he was all right. In an effort to distract he decided to warn her about Karen White.

"Tess, there is something you should know. I was held up by this journalist this morning, Karen White. She's been digging around in my past and she's also interested in my family. She mentioned you and she knew it's Daisy's birthday today."

His distraction worked. Tess' face pulled into a frown. "Why the hell would she do that? What's so interesting about you? Isn't the case what the story is?"

"My words exactly." He shoved his hands in his pocket and looked to the floor. "Tess, she knows about the Carter case," he added quietly.

She tensed and her face paled. "How?" was all she could say.

"Apparently somebody hacked into the Glasgow Police Constabulary's database and stole some files. Baxter is looking into it for me."

She nodded and looked somewhat relieved. He couldn't share her sentiment. But then she might not remember everything that happened that day considering the amount of drugs she had had in her system. He shuddered with the vivid memory of her limp body in his arms, blood splattered all over them. Tess touched him gently on the elbow.

"Alec, maybe you should go home. It's late anyways. You've had a long day. I can take care of the paperwork." Her voice was soft.

He relaxed under her touch and soothing voice. The day had taken its toll on him and with the tension falling away he could feel the exhaustion creeping in. He nodded, mouth open. "Yah, think you're right. I should get out of here. Do you want me to pick up Daisy on the way home?"

"No she's staying with some friends who are throwing her a dinner party for her birthday." Tess was already starting to walk back to their offices, when Hardy held her back.

"Why did you say yes to that? I would have liked to spend some time with her. You could have asked." He didn't know why he was so annoyed but he felt left out and robbed of an opportunity to see his daughter.

"I thought it was all right because I didn't know when we'd be home. You haven't even slept at the house for most nights this past week. Why would you care today?" Tess was exasperated.

"Why would I care?" His voice pitch shifted. "Maybe because she's my daughter and it's her birthday today and I haven't seen her much lately and it would be nice for a change to have some family life. Maybe that's why I care. What the fuck, Tess? Do you really feel I'm so detached from you and Daisy that I don't even want to spend some time with you guys?" The bitterness in his words was more pronounced than he intendend to.

"Ach, Alec. You're making a scene. Pull yourself together. She'll be home later tonight and if you haven't sagged out on the sofa again, maybe you can actually talk to her for a change," Tess reprimanded him, not even trying to conceal her sarcasm. And with that she walked away, letting him steep in his anger and hurt.

* * *

He came home to an empty house once again. He sat in the car for a while, having no motivation to walk in there, just staring ahead. Tess was wrong and she had hurt him more than she might realize. Granted, he had spent too much time at work lately and the case was consuming him, but he was trying to not let it all overwhelm him. He wasn't very successful. His own reflection stared back at him, and just like earlier in the day he was taken aback by how little he recognized the man reflected in the windshield. Eventually he got out of the car.

When he stuck the key in the door, he suddenly felt weak, so weak that his legs were giving out under him. He slumped against the door, barely able to keep himself upright. He turned the key and fell into the hallway with the door swinging open. Everything around him slowed down together with his heart beat. His hands were tingling and his mind was so foggy. He could feel the pauses between every painful contraction of his heart muscle. He managed to find his phone and was about to dial 999 when the black closed in.

* * *

"Mr. Hardy, are you okay?" The voice was vaguely familiar. He forced his eyes open only to be greeted by the worried face of his neighbor. _Bollocks._ What was the man doing in his house? If Tess found out about this, she was going to give him hell.

"Your door was open but there was no light on inside the house, so I got worried that something was wrong. I hope you don't mind me coming in here like this," the man explained insecurely.

Hardy racked his brain trying to remember the man's name. Paul? Or maybe Peter? He cleared his throat, while attempting to clamber to his feet. His neighbor was quick to help him up. He was still a little wobbly but at least his heart was beating more normally now. His eyes fell on the mobile in the man's hand.

"Did you call an ambulance?" Hardy asked anxiously. Bad enough that his neighbor had found him passed out, but he could probably come up with a lie to buy himself silence. If, however, there was an ambulance pulled up to his house, there would be no way to hide this from Tess. But then wasn't he going to tell her anyways? He shook his head and tried to focus on what the man said.

"I was about to, but then you came around. You were out like a light, you know. You sure you're all right?"

"'M fine. Just bumped my head a few days ago and had a concussion." He rubbed the spot on his forehead and put on what he hoped was an embarrassed look. "Erm… would you mind not telling my wife? I had a drink after work and I wasn't really supposed to with the head injury and all. She gets so overly worried and it's a little stifling, if you know what I mean." He shot him a sheepish glance, ears turning red with the lie. For once his tendency to blush easily was helpful.

A broad grin formed on his neighbor's face. He nudged Hardy in the side. "Yea, I know what you mean. They can be so overbearing, don't you think? I've got one of those as well. Always spoils the fun. Don't you worry, I've got you, mate." He gave Hardy a strong shoulder pat and turned to leave.

Hardy felt he should say something else. "Erm… thanks for checking in though. I appreciate that." He actually did. It was a caring gesture, even if driven by nosiness. He didn't want to admit that the man could have potentially saved his life if his heart hadn't decided to do its job properly again.

"Sure thing, mate. You watch out for us all the time, with your job and stuff. So, yah, you're welcome." He grinned again. "And say hello to the missus. Maybe we could all have a drink sometime."

Hardy nodded, forcing a smile on his face. The last thing he wanted was having drinks with his macho neighbor, but he felt obligated to be polite. He closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. He was so utterly exhausted that all he wanted to do was go to sleep. A nagging pain in his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten all day. He mustered his remaining energy to make a sandwich which he took to the sofa with him. Only a few bites and his pills made it into his stomach before his eyes fell shut.

* * *

"Dad. Wake up. I've got cake for you."

Hardy groggily propped himself up. He blinked into the light. Daisy was sitting next to him on the sofa, sticking a piece of birthday cake under his nose. He sat up slowly and took the plate from her.

"Thanks darlin'. That looks really nice. Who made it?" He took the fork from her and cut off a small bite. He hoped he'd be able to keep it down. The moment he'd sat up the nausea from the pills had hit him hard.

"My friends did. I had such a good time at the party." She beamed with happiness and Hardy's heart melted yet again for his daughter.

"Why don't you tell me about it," he prompted, taking another bite. It was rather tasty, he had to admit. He slowly finished the cake while he listened to her babbling away about the dinner, the insane amount of food, the crazy outfits everyone wore and the fact that all her friends had put in their money to get her two tickets for a band that she really liked.

"A band?" he asked. That was new. "What band? And who's going to the concert with you?"

She grinned. "I thought maybe you would?"

"Me? What would I do at a concert? I'm way too old for those kinda things, Daisy." And his heart was way too weak to be trusted amongst a loud and noisy environment such as a concert venue.

"Ach, Dad. You're not that old. And besides you might actually like the music. Why don't we listen to it tomorrow morning in the car and you tell me if you want to come." She found his eyes and her hopefulness made him ache. How could he say no?

"Fine. I'll listen to it. But I'm not making any promises. Do you understand, young lady?"

"You'll like it," she said with a smile and breathed a kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Dad. Don't sleep on the sofa again."

"Good night, darlin'. And happy birthday again. I love you." He kissed her forehead and then nudged her to go. After she had left he laid back on the sofa. He didn't have the greatest desire to share his bed with Tess, not after their run in this afternoon. And moving his tired body seemed like way too much work. His eye lids drooped and before he could really make a conscious decision, he had fallen back asleep.


	16. CHAPTER 15

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for reading and leaving comments (now that there is no way of even knowing how many people are looking, those comments are even more appreciated). It's day 13 of the investigation, a Friday, and it's going to be a long day for our favorite detective… thank you my dear hazelmist for taking a look and pointing out mistakes. What would I do without you?

* * *

 **CHAPTER 15**

Hardy was pulling the porch door shut behind him. He didn't want to run any risk of being caught by Daisy or Tess. It was early but Emily had said to call her anytime. His finger hovered indecisively over her name. He sat down on the stones under the old willow tree, still feeling the effects of this morning's attack. Yet again, he had woken up shaken by the same nightmare. The pain had been almost unbearable and the struggle to breathe made him panic. Considering how his condition seemed to worsen rather than improve with the new medication, he really wanted to talk to her.

She picked up on the second ring. Her voice was heavy with sleep when she identified herself. He immediately felt bad for disturbing her this early.

"Erm... it's Alec Hardy. Sorry if I woke..."

She didn't let him finish. "No worries. What's the matter, Alec?" Her concern was apparent.

He took in a few breaths. It was hard to find the right words, even if he had played out the conversation in his mind before.

"I... erm… I haven't been doing so well. Yesterday at work... I had a few episodes... and then I passed out at home," he stuttered, feeling self-conscious and vulnerable. His head was hanging down and he dragged his fingers through his hair.

She was silent for a few moments. Her struggle not to sound too worried when she continued was obvious. "Alec, when you passed out, what did you feel? Too fast or too slow of a heart rate?"

He chewed his lower lip. He'd rather not think of the moment everything seemed to halt along with his fading heartbeat. Uncomfortable in his own skin, he revealed, "Too slow. And there was a lot of pain and blurry vision... I couldn't... I was very... weak, my legs gave out." It was extremely awkward to talk about what happened, even with her who was his doctor. He felt so hopelessly inadequate and embarrassed over his own frailty.

She sighed. "I guess, it could be worse."

He was confused. How could it be worse? "I don't think I understand. What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His annoyance was shining through.

"Alec, what do you remember from what I've told you about your heart arrhythmia?" she was probing him gently which was only increasing his frustration. How was putting him on the spot going to help? He hated it and she'd better have a good reason to quiz him like that.

"Erm… it's genetic and it causes my heart to beat irregularly. It can make my heart stop which happened a few weeks ago and it makes me feel like shit all the time now. So do the medications. And I need an operation to get it fixed." He realized he sounded defensive but he couldn't help himself. He kicked at a pebble in front of him.

She sighed again. "All right, that's a start but I think I'll have to go over some things with you again." Hearing him suck in some air to protest, she continued quickly, "Before you complain, let me explain one important fact that you must understand in order to be able to help yourself until you will let me help you with the pacemaker."

Sensing the urgency of her words, he sat up straight and tried to focus. Which wasn't easy as he spotted Daisy through the window waving at him and holding up his tea mug. He waved back at her and mouthed 'work'. She shrugged and walked away from the window. He shifted his attention back to what Emily was saying.

"Okay bear with me. This is going to be a bit long winded but it's important, Alec," she prefaced her explanation.

"Fine. I'm listening," he growled.

She took in a deep breath and started speaking, with a measured pace and he could tell she had given this talk before. "There are two basic problems with your heart Alec. One is that your heart rate slows down so much that you're not getting enough blood flow and therefore oxygen to your body. That's what makes you pass out, lack of oxygen to the brain. Most of the time this is self-resolving, even if you pass out from it. It's still dangerous let's say if it happens while driving and it will make you feel fatigued a lot. Does that sound about right for what you've been experiencing?" she asked.

"Mmm, sometimes. Not always. I've been tired though," he admitted. Somewhere in his brain, Pippa's bloated face reminded him that his exhaustion wasn't only to blame on his heart condition but very much so on his sleep deprived state.

"The fatigue is a symptom of the low heart rate. That's where the pacemaker comes into play. It can help greatly with that. It kicks in when your heart slows down too much and does the job for you. Do you follow me so far?" She paused.

He had gotten up during her explanation and was pacing around in the yard. It was hard to comprehend and he knew she had told him before but now that it had become a daily routine, it seemed to make more sense. He realized she was still waiting for his answer.

"I think so. So is that what makes it stop then?" He was feeling rather uneasy asking that question. It wasn't the greatest past time he could imagine - discussing the various ways his heart could fail him, while hiding from his family in his backyard on a chilly April morning.

She took in a breath and let it out. "No Alec. Not usually. What causes the cardiac arrest - your heart stopping - is the more dangerous side of your condition. Because of the abnormal way your heart generates a beat it is vulnerable to get jolted into an extremely fast rate which is called ventricular tachycardia or V-Tach for short. If it does that you might feel a fluttering sensation or an uncomfortably fast beat."

He thought of all those moments his heart had been racing away and leaving him with the empty feeling in his chest. He never even entirely grasped the concept of what was going on inside his failing body. The sun was shining in his face and under any other circumstances he would have welcomed the warmth that it was spreading through him. Today though, all he could feel was the chill of the fear for his life that was more and more taking a hold over him.

"Alec, are you still listening?" Her concerned voice pulled him away from his morbid thoughts.

"Aye. I was just… thinking of what you mentioned. It doesn't always make it stop though, right?" he asked, hoping for confirmation that he would be all right. It was naïve, but he had nothing else to cling on to at the moment.

"It depends. Sometimes when that happens your heart will still be able to pump okay, sometimes it won't. That's when you collapse without a pulse and need resuscitation. In the worst case your heart just quivers and doesn't pump at all. That is when you die, Alec." Her voice was somber and a sadness had crept in that Hardy couldn't ignore.

He had stopped pacing. 'That is when you die' - nothing else of what she had said sunk in besides those words. He knew the feeling she talked about, he had experienced it way too many times in the past weeks. His voice was trembling when he asked his next question.

"And the pacemaker fixes that as well?"

"Alec, the pacemaker doesn't _fix_ anything. It only prevents you from passing out when your heart starts beating too slow. What will save your life is something called an ICD device. It's part of the pacemaker and your own personal defibrillator that will deliver an electrical shock when - as you put it - your heart goes to shit. Neither that nor the pacemaker will make your condition go away, it will keep you upright and hopefully alive, that's all." She paused and when he didn't say anything, she added. "I'm really sorry, Alec. I thought you understood that."

He shook his head, despite her not being able to see. "No, I had no idea," he admitted, defeat making his voice gravelly. He slowly sat down on the stone again. His face was stoic, desperately trying not to let on in case Daisy was watching him. For the first time since he had been diagnosed, he truly understood. He was never going to be healthy again.

"Alec? Please say something. I didn't want to spring this upon you like this, but I do need you to understand that when you feel a certain way you have to seek medical attention before it's too late. We can schedule the EP study for next week and then get the pacemaker and ICD surgery done as soon as possible."

He groaned. "I can't do that. I have to finish this case, I told you before. I hope we are getting somewhere but still, I can't let it go." The strain in his voice was painful, even to his own ears.

"You just told me that you're doing worse. It's not responsible of you to go on and possibly not make it through this case, you realize that, don't you?" she argued.

He rolled his eyes. He had to make her understand why he couldn't give up. "Emily, I don't sleep anymore. Every night I wake up with the same nightmare, drowning in that bloody river, saving a dead girl. And more nights than others it's not even Pippa that I pull out, it's Daisy." His voice was breaking up and his eyes were stinging. "If I don't get the killer convicted I will never be able to find peace, I need to finish. Please, just help me to do that." He was begging her now, not knowing what else to do. The desperation was all encompassing. His heavy breaths crackled through the phone, anxiety making him too tense to even be able to stay composed.

After what seemed like an eternity to him she spoke. "I will help you Alec. Under one condition. You must schedule the procedure for no later than two weeks from now. If you're still busy with the case we can see about rescheduling, but for now that's my deal. You can either agree or I will talk to your CMO."

His relief was audible when he agreed to her plan. She instructed him to take some of his medications more frequently with the hope of minimizing any further attacks. They both were under no illusion that he would be symptom free, not as long as he kept pushing himself like that. Neither one of them brought it up though. He had to promise to call in on Monday and let her know how it was going. She was going to let him know about the date for the procedure. When he hung up the phone with her he wanted to hide in a corner but he couldn't. Daisy was waiting for him to take her to school and Pippa's ghost was driving him harder and harder every day that went by. He took a few moments to compose himself and then put a smile on his face that was almost as big a lie as not telling Daisy and Tess about his deadly disease.

* * *

Hardy and Daisy were rushing out the door, running late for school and work. They had spent an awkward breakfast together, mostly due to the clinging eerie feeling of the phone conversation he just had. Daisy had been chatting away at first but then when she caught him not paying attention for the third time, she gave up. They grumped at each other when they realized how late they were. She forgot her homework, he forgot his phone and by the time they finally sat in the car, he was sweating as if it was a sweltering summer day and not a chilly April morning. He started the car and left their drive way with squealing tires.

"Dad, you don't have to kill us. We'll get there in time," Daisy whined.

"It's all right, darlin'. I've got this." He was distracted by the nausea his morning pills had caused him as well as her fiddling with the stereo. She was trying to hook up her phone so he could listen to the band whose concert she wanted him to come along to.

"Daisy, could you not do this right now, please," he growled, irritation making his Scottish accent stronger. It bothered him more than it should have, but he had a hard time focusing as it was without his teenaged daughter playing DJ in the car.

"Oi, you said you would listen to it?" He shot her a quick glance, just long enough to catch a glimpse of her pouting face. Another driver honked at him and his attention snapped back to the road. He was grabbing the wheel harder than usually, his knuckles turning white. He felt the urge to hold on tighter and tighter to overcome the odd sensation of not being connected to the car.

Daisy was looking out the passenger window, ignoring him with every bit of teenaged indignation she could muster. They stopped at a light and he turned towards her.

"I do want to listen to it, just not right now. It's too distracting. Please, darlin', don't be like that," he pleaded with her.

"Dad, it's green." Her voice carried all the annoyance of the world. He sighed inwardly and gave up.

"Fine. If you can figure out your phone and the car, I'll listen to it now." She smirked and busied herself with trying to figure out the bluetooth connection between the mobile and the vehicle's sound system.

Hardy was uncurling and stretching his fingers before placing them on the wheel again. They felt numb. He looked up at the traffic light they had just passed and blinked. Did he just see the green halo double? By the time he had put two and two together it was too late. His brain was already so foggy that it only registered the low heart rate very sluggishly. His vision went from blurry to black and his head lolled back. The next thing he remembered was the screeching sound of abruptly stopping car tires, a loud persistent horn and Daisy's scream. More out of reflex than clear thought he hit the brakes. The car stalled and an eerie silence followed only interrupted by Daisy's quiet sobs and his heavy breathing.

An angry face popped up outside of the car. "What the fuck man? Your light was red, you fuckwit." The other driver banged his flat hand against his window and Hardy slowly opened the door. His hands were shaking so hard that he could barely grasp the handle. His voice faltered and left him staring at the man with his mouth gaping open, sucking in one labored breath after the other. The other driver squinted at him and Hardy could only imagine how awful he must look, considering that the man went from being furious to concerned within seconds.

"Jeez man, you look like shit. You all right? Did you have a heart attack or something?"

Hardy shook his head and croaked a "no" that didn't sound very convincing. He turned to Daisy who was white as a ghost. Her wide eyes were fixed on the other car which had come to a halt mere inches away from where she was sitting on the passenger seat. Hardy shuddered. The impact would most certainly have left her seriously injured, if not possibly killed her, if the other driver had been just a tad faster. He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped.

"Darlin', it's all right. I'm sorry, I truly am, that I scared you like this." She flung herself into his arms. He hugged her across the middle console, turning his head to face the young man who wasn't looking that great either. Hardy realized that he was just as shaken as Daisy and himself.

"I'm sorry, sir. Did you get hurt or anyone in your car?" The man shook his head. "How about your car? Any damage there?" Hardy inquired anxiously. Again the head went side to side. "I would understand if you wanted to report this. We can call the police if you'd like." He was sincere about the offer even if that would certainly be the end of his career, but he felt so guilty that he had to suggest it.

"No. I don't think we have to. Nobody got hurt and the cars aren't damaged. We were all very lucky, I guess," the young man stated, shrugging his shoulders. "We should clear the cross roads, people are gonna get antsy with us blocking the road."

Hardy nodded. His trembling hands were tightly wrapped around Daisy but he would have to let go. His heart was still thudding slowly in his chest, nowhere near back to normal. His thoughts were racing. The school was only a couple of streets away. If he pulled himself together, he should be able to make it there. And then he'd have to come up with a plan if he still was feeling like this. He reluctantly released Daisy from the hug.

"Are you ready to drive again?" he asked gently. She swallowed, nodded and buckled her seat belt back in. Hardy threw one last glance at the other man who was on his way back to the truck he was driving. He shuddered again. Daisy could have been dead and it would have been entirely his fault for being so stubborn about the driving and the pacemaker. He couldn't bear the thought. There was no doubt in his mind anymore what he needed to do once he reached the safety of his office.

They made it to the school in one piece. "Dad, we're not going to tell Mum about this, right? She would never let me ride in a car with you ever again."

That was the first thing she had said since the near accident. He nodded in agreement, not trusting his voice. She hugged him tightly before she left the car. His gaze lingered on her until she disappeared through the school gate. Reluctantly he started the car and inched his way back into traffic. He held it together until he was two streets down. Then he pulled over, his chest shaking with the suppressed sobs. He had almost killed his daughter. He got out of the car, tears still running down his cheeks, grabbed his belongings from the backseat, locked the doors and called a taxi. No more driving for him. Not like this, not until he had properly taken care of his problem.

* * *

He made the taxi drop him off at the entrance of the parking garage. Nobody noticed him, when he snuck in through the side door. As always, the wait at the elevator was robbing him of whatever patience he might have left, but the stairs were not even an option anymore. The short walk through the CID main floor was equally trying. He saw Baxter raise his head and making a motion to follow him, so he hurried to get to his office and shut the door behind him before anyone could bother him. His keys clicked in the lock, eliminating the risk of being disturbed.

He tried Emily's front desk first but she wasn't in yet. _Bollocks._ There was a moment of hesitation if he should call her again on her mobile, but the urge to talk to her won. It didn't take her long to pick up. Before she could even say anything the words spilled out of him, losing whatever composure he had desperately held onto.

"I almost killed Daisy… in the car… I blacked out and ran a light… you have to help me to get this fixed… please Emily… I don't even know what to do," he sobbed into the phone, pacing up and down in the confined space of his office. He was vaguely aware that he was breathing way too fast, panic taking a firm hold over him.

"Alec, listen to me, just listen to my voice, focus on nothing else… breathe in… and out… and again," she soothed him. He clung to her softly spoken words, his chest rising and falling with her directions. When he had calmed down some, she started asking a row of quick questions.

"Where are you now?"

"In my office." Where his boss was going to knock at his door any minute.

"Did you take your medication this morning?

"Aye." Not that they did any good.

"Good. How about any of the rescue pills after the incident?"

"No." He hadn't even thought about it. He fumbled through his pockets.

"Take some now then." He did and told her so. He was getting anxious again and resumed the pacing.

"I need you to relax and try to calm down. Are you sitting down?" She sounded doubtful.

He stopped in front of the sofa and plopped on it. His knees were nervously bouncing up and down in a futile attempt of releasing tension and he wiped at his face, trying to rid himself of the tears and fear alike.

"I am now. Please, Emily…" He wasn't even sure what it was that he was asking for.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Her voice was soft, gently probing but without being pushy.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled with the words. "We were rushing to get to school. I was distracted and didn't recognize the signs of the attack until I blacked out at the wheel. I ran a red light and we almost got hit by another car. The truck just stopped inches away from the passenger side. She would have been dead, Emily, if the other guy hadn't stopped in time. It's all my fault for being such a stubborn arse and not taking care of myself. I can't bear to think…"

"Then don't," she interjected. "No use to obsess over something that didn't happen." She waited for a reply and when none came she added. "Am I right, Alec?"

"Right," he agreed reluctantly. Intellectually that was a logical thought, emotionally however it was a very different story.

"Now, let's talk about how we can make things better for you. I think with some persuasion of the NHS on my part we might be able to get the EP study done as early as next Friday. That's a week from now. We could possibly think about doing the pacemaker then, but I'd have to discuss this with my colleagues. Will you be able to arrange that?" She ended with the most important part.

He didn't even hesitate. There was no doubt in his mind what needed to be done. "I will make the time."

"Fantastic. We will discuss all the details on Monday when you come to the office. You will need someone to drive you there and pick you up after. Can't just be a taxi, has to be a person accompanying you. I'd suggest your wife…"

"No. Not her," he interjected. He was surprised by the vehemence of his own statement. A frown etched itself into his forehead, when he wondered why.

"Alec, how do you think you're going to hide this from her? You will have a wound and a big dressing in your groin and need to be lying down for the rest of the day you have the procedure. And after that you're supposed to take it easy as well. No running up and down stairs, no lifting, no other strenuous activities. You will need her help. This has to stop and you need to tell her," Emily urged him sternly.

A groan was all he could get out. He had promised himself he would tell Tess this weekend but with every day that had gone by, the secrets and lies were growing from a tiny heap into a mountain which by now seemed much too steep to climb. She would be so angry at him. The fact that she'd been blowing up at him over so many little things in these past weeks certainly didn't inspire confidence that she'd take this information any better. And even if it hadn't been for that – how do you tell your wife that you have been hiding a potentially deadly disease from her? Would she even care?

The last thought stopped him dead in his tracks. Of course she would. How on earth could he doubt that? His overly stimulated and exhausted mind started to throw a fast row of answers to this question at him, all of them painful and unwelcomed. Images of her turning away from him, shrugging off his touch, telling Daisy he didn't care about the family anymore were only a few. And then her sad eyes from when they kissed in his office the other day burned themselves into the foreground.

"Alec? Are you all right? You sound like you're having trouble breathing." Emily's voice was sharp with concern and it jolted him out of the memory that had yet again left him profoundly sad. The realization that he was indeed struggling for air filtered in.

"Can you talk?" She sounded distressed.

"'Course I can," he muttered under his breath.

"Then tell me what's going on before I call an ambulance to pick you up in your office."

In the end he had no idea why he confided in her, if it was her threat or maybe he had finally reached a point where it was just too overwhelming. He spilled out his frustration over the constant fighting and the feeling of betrayal he had after what Tess had said to Daisy and how much worse he'd been doing since then. How she didn't seem to see what was going on with him but how that was just as much his own fault for hiding. And his burning question why he felt that need to do so to begin with, why he couldn't just trust her as he should.

Emily listened quietly. It took her a while to answer after he was done. When she did, she sounded sad. "I asked my father once why he never told us that he was so sick until he couldn't hide it anymore. I was very angry at the time, I wanted him to hurt just as much as I felt hurt by his actions. He told me how sorry he was he didn't. He never explained though at first. The only thing that he said to me was, why I had never asked, not once how he was doing in all that time. I yelled at him to not be so stupid, because of course I had asked him many times if he was all right and encouraged him to seek help. He just shook his head and replied that although I might have done that, I never stopped and looked at him, that my own fears and needs didn't let me see what was apparent to others around him who were not as close. That what he needed wasn't yet another voice who told him to go to the doctor, but someone who would just be there for him and hold him when he got scared at night. With no judgement, with no agenda, just to support and be close. Someone who would carry him."

She fell silent and Hardy wondered if she was crying on the other end. He wouldn't be surprised, he certainly felt rather shaken as her words were hitting very close to home. Tess had been so ready to buy his lies and excuses and that one time he told her about his nightmares all she offered was for him to seek therapy. No hug, no closeness. And it wasn't that she didn't seem to care but it was so detached, so sterile. Her sad eyes were drowning him and he felt at an utter loss of what to do next.

Time had passed without either one of them saying anything. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. He struggled for the words as always when it came to expressing his emotions. She must have known as it was her who continued the conversation

"It's all right, Alec. You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to share one perspective. It might be very different for you and your family, but what I wanted to convey was that you shouldn't believe that the struggle to tell your wife and daughter is all just because of your difficulties with sharing. It's a two way street and if either way is blocked, the traffic won't flow. "

She paused and sighed. When she continued, her tone had changed and he realized she was trying to be encouraging and move away from the somber mood they both had fallen into.

"I'm not in your shoes, Alec. And even if I had the experience with my father, I wasn't the one with the burden of adjusting my life to a new reality of having a life-threatening illness. It's hard, and I wouldn't be pushy about you telling your family, but I know that in a week's time, you won't have a choice anymore. And considering how poorly you have been doing, I think relieving the stress of hiding might help you with regaining better control until we can help you with that."

Before he could answer, there was a knock at his door. _Damn it_. Must be Baxter finally. It had taken him longer than he thought. When he didn't answer immediately, there was another rap at the door, followed by DC Swenson insecure voice.

"DI Hardy? Sorry to disturb, but Claire Ripley is here and she seems rather… upset. Says she needs to talk to you and that she can't wait."

 _For fuck's sake._ What did the woman want now? He dragged his hand down his face, desperately trying to pull it together. That wasn't the reaction he should have. If a person of interest showed up to talk, one should be excited and not annoyed. Emily was right, this wasn't sustainable. He had to come clean at least with his family.

"Be right there Swenson," he hollered over the phone. "Emily, I'm sorry but I've got to go." It registered somewhere that this was the first thing he had said to her since she shared her experience with him. He got up, walked over to the window and stared out into the rain that was falling heavily now. His palm was pressed flesh against it and his forehead rested on the cool glass. It was oddly soothing.

"Thank you Emily," he whispered in the phone, not able to say more for the fear of losing whatever composure he had managed to scrape together.

"You're very welcome. Call me anytime, and I mean that," she said fondly. "I will keep you posted on the details of the procedure and then I'll see you Monday. Go and do your work now, I know you need to." He had the impression she implied much more than tending to the matter at hand. She hung up without giving him a chance to say anything further. He took a few more heart beats to shift his mind to work. It was hard but he took consolation in the fact he was able to. Maybe he could finish this case after all. He sure hoped so.


	17. CHAPTER 16

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for sticking round and reading. Yet again, I have to acknowledge and thank my friend hazelmist for helping with the editing. Friday Day 13 continues and Alec's life is getting more complicated…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 16**

Claire was pacing around the table in the interrogation room. Hardy was watching her for a few moments through the small window in the door, taking in her outward signs of agitation. He had made sure that the video tape was running as yet again she only wanted him there. He was getting tired of her games and he did his best to tone down his impatience. His success was questionable at best.

Hardy opened the door and as soon as she spotted him she walked up to him, not giving him a chance to properly position them at the table. She held him up right under the camera with no way for anything to be captured. Her hand came to rest on his arm and she trained her wide eyes on him.

"You said you would protect me. Does your word still stand?" she inquired in a hushed voice. He carefully brushed her hand away and stepped around her into the area that the camera could see, before he answered.

"If you feel threatened or not safe at home we can help you with shelter," he confirmed, not committing to anything further. He wanted to see what she came up with next. It was impossible for him to say why, but he didn't quite buy her distressed demeanor.

"He wasn't happy with his interview yesterday. He felt our stories didn't match up enough." Her eyes were downcast and she had finally taken a chair. Hardy sat down opposite her. He clasped his hands when he leaned forward.

"Is that so? And what made him feel like that? Is there something you would like to amend in your statement, Claire?" he prompted, deliberately letting his irritation seep into his voice.

Her eyes darted away quickly and back to him. She sucked on her lower lip, chewing on it for a while. Hardy was digging up all the patience that he could find which wasn't a lot. This day had already been stretching him thin and he had no tolerance for playing around. The awareness that this kind of attitude was what led to mistakes and shoddy police work was the only thing that kept him from losing it.

"He might have been mad at me for not remembering things correctly the way he remembered them." She was still chewing on her lip, but now she was squinting her eyes at him, taking him in very carefully. He sat up straight, keeping his face impassive, folding his arms across his chest.

"Claire, if there is something you would like to tell me, now would be a good time. I promise you we will help you to stay safe if there is any concern. Think about what happened. There is a twelve year old girl who was murdered, the other one is still missing. I know you don't have children, but maybe you can try to put yourself in the mothers' shoes for one moment. How would you feel?"

She stared at him, eyes even wider than before. When she leaned forward, one of her hands slid down the table and came to rest over her lower abdomen. A very telling gesture and Hardy made a mental note of it. He nodded at her encouragingly, raising his eyebrows.

"So, what is it going to be then, Claire?"

"There might be a reason why our stories don't match." She shifted in her chair, her eyes downcast.

Hardy sucked in some air. "Care to elaborate on that?"

She opened her mouth, but then bit down on her lip. He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. "Claire, if you don't tell me what happened that night, I won't be able to protect you." His voice had grown soft and he held her gaze. Whatever her role was in this, if his suspicion was correct and she might be pregnant then she deserved at least his consideration of keeping her safe.

"Things might have been different that evening from what I told you before," she admitted reluctantly.

Hardy's heart skipped a few beats, followed by a much more rapid rate than before. He ignored it. There was no way he would let this opportunity slip away from him.

"How so?" He kept his tone as neutral as he could. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"I don't wanna talk about it." There was defiance in her eyes which didn't sit well with Hardy. He hit his palm on the table. She flinched.

"Horseshit. Stop playing games with me. Why did you come, if not to talk about it? Just to fuck with me?" he shouted angrily. He couldn't help his reaction while he was scolding himself at the same time that he hadn't kept his cool. He was probably lucky if she didn't say anything as some solicitors would interpret his actions as witness intimidation.

"I can't. If he finds out that I came back, he'd be really upset," she tried to explain herself.

"Claire, I can protect you, if you tell me what happened that night." Add extortion to witness intimidation, he thought sardonically.

"When Lee said that I wanted to go out that night, he wasn't lying." She stopped and chewed on her lip again.

"So did you go out?" He had a hard time not letting the excitement seep in. If Ashworth didn't have an alibi, his involvement would suddenly be much more plausible even if they still didn't have any hard evidence. At least it made it possible.

Again, she shook her head. He had no idea if that was an answer to his question or if she just was done talking.

"Claire, I need to know. This is important. Did you go out that night? Were you _not_ with your husband?" he insisted. She stared at him and then gave the tiniest nod ever. One time only, no verbal confirmation. Hardy sat back on his chair, breathing heavily. There was no way he would be able to use this in court. She needed to make an official statement. She moved to leave. He rushed to stand, lightheadedness almost sweeping him off his feet. He steadied himself on the chair and turned towards her, blurry vision denying him a clear picture of her expression.

"This is not going to work if you don't make an official statement, Claire." He blinked and could see her stern face more clearly.

"Not now. I have to leave. I need to be at work in time. If I'm not, he might find out." She was clutching her bag and looked scared.

"Can you come back later to make the statement?" The urgency was tangible in his voice.

"I don't know. I will see what I can do." With that she left the room quickly. He was too breathless to run after her but even if he had, she wouldn't have changed her mind. She was still playing with him, having caught the mouse and let it go again before what he hoped would be the final pounce. He would do anything to get her to officially drop Ashworth's alibi.

He was standing in the blind spot of the camera and used the opportunity to gag down some pills. The wall was a welcome aid until the vertigo finally subsided and his breathing was easier. He pushed himself off it and walked slowly to Baxter's office. Maybe they had enough to try and get an arrest warrant for Ashworth? The prospect of possibly getting somewhere with the case before he needed to have his procedure done was filling him with a hopeful feeling that had eluded him for the past days.

* * *

Baxter scrutinized his friend thoroughly. Hardy had trudged into his office and plopped on a chair without waiting for an invitation to sit. After the prior day's events Baxter might have been overly sensitive to his DI's demeanor and appearance, but he wasn't feeling very confident that the man wasn't going to fall over any moment.

"I want to try and get an arrest warrant for Lee Ashworth," Hardy opened the conversation, not bothering with niceties.

"Good morning to you, too." Hardy glared at him, then rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He didn't say a word. Baxter sighed. He should finally give up on teaching him manners. Hardy was a lost cause.

"Why do you think you'd be successful with that?" Baxter inquired leaning forward in his chair. In his opinion there wasn't enough to even start thinking about approaching the CPS to go after Ashworth.

"Claire Ripley, his wife, just came to speak to me. She implied that she wasn't with him that night after all. She's his alibi. So if she wasn't with him, he doesn't have one. Pippa liked him a lot, they had spent time together. She would have trusted him to come with him, I think. The hair we found on Pippa's pillow is Ashworth's, nuclear DNA, so a true match for once. His finger prints are all over the house including the girl's room although he says he has never been in her room. Still looking for DNA matches as well."

Hardy made his case, speech measured and methodical. There was less excitement in his voice than Baxter would have expected. Hardy was clearly tired and not his usual bouncy self when he was getting closer to solving a case. It worried Baxter deeply to see his friend like that.

"Did his wife make a written statement?" Without that it would be hard to get the warrant.

Hardy sighed and chewed on his lower lip. "Yes, but this information isn't part of it. She came this morning to tell me her husband wasn't happy with his interrogation yesterday. She indicated she doesn't feel safe, something she has done before. Then she was sort of dodgy around the fact that the night's events might not have been what she had stated before. She never said that she wasn't with him, just nodded yes to me asking. We have it on tape but it's not going to hold up."

Hardy glanced at him and they both knew he was right. "She left before I could get more out of her. I have a feeling she's going to come around but she's playing games with me. I had to promise her that we would protect her."

Baxter couldn't hide his annoyance. How could his most experienced officer get himself dragged into this? His voice wasn't hiding any of his feelings.

"Jesus, Hardy. You should know better than getting yourself sucked into something like that. If Ashworth indeed turns out to be our man, you can't be meddling with a potential key witness."

"So, you don't want me to offer protection then if she is worried he's going to go after her?" Hardy snapped at him, scowling. He was getting agitated. Baxter expected him to get up and pace as his habit was, but instead he just balled his hands into fists and was breathing heavily.

Baxter squinted at his pale face. Something was up and much to his own disgust, he caught himself thinking that he wasn't sure if he wanted to know or not. If Claire had latched onto Hardy, it might be difficult to get her to talk, if Hardy was out of the picture because of illness. The side in him that was Hardy's friend screamed at the police officer in him for being so calculating and ignoring his friend's well-being. It was at times like this when he really, really just wanted to bang his head against his desk and hide from the world. Why did it always have to be this complicated with Hardy? In the end, the friend won. He couldn't watch him like this, knowing that Hardy might be harming himself out of an exaggerated sense of commitment to his work.

"You all right?" Baxter asked, coming around his desk to rest a hand on Hardy's shoulder. Hardy shrugged it off vehemently.

"I'm not here to discuss any health issues I may or may not have. I'm here to talk about getting an arrest warrant for my prime suspect, _sir_ ," Hardy barked at him, emphasizing the title while his piercing eyes bore into Baxter's.

Baxter tried not to be offended, but it was hard. He cared about him and as always Hardy had trouble accepting the sentiment and not feeling exposed and vulnerable. Baxter was willing to let it go for the moment and to finish the discussion at hand. He sat down in the chair next to Hardy.

"Fine. I'll take it to CPS and see what I can do." Hardy looked relieved. Something bugged Baxter though. "What would be Ashworth's motive? They are going to ask that."

"To be honest with you, I have no idea. Why would _anyone_ do such a thing? And then leave her in the river?" Hardy's eyes went dark and he pressed the heels of his hands against them. "Ashworth seemed to feel remorse over the fact that Pippa is dead and I actually believe him. Maybe it was an accident, maybe the girl threatened to say something assuming he did make a move on her. Maybe it had something to do with Lisa. We still don't have any idea what happened to her or how she fits into the picture." Hardy fell silent, lost somewhere in his train of thoughts. He dragged his hands over his face and stifled a yawn.

"Did you get any rest last night?" Baxter's voice was soft. Hardy lifted his gaze and stared back at him with those exhausted eyes that to Baxter seemed so alien in his face. He nodded and for a moment Baxter thought he was going to tell him more but then he pressed his lips together and stayed mute. He wished he could coax his friend out of his shell but he knew better than to be pushy.

"When are you seeing your doctor again?" Maybe that was safe enough ground.

"Next week," Hardy sighed. "Just talked to her today, changed my medications." Baxter was sure he wasn't telling him the full story.

"Hm. And do they know what's wrong with you?" Baxter had talked to his brother Martin last night to get a better idea what problems Hardy might be dealing with. Martin couldn't tell him much as there were too many possibilities, some of them sounding rather concerning. He would need more information. Baxter sure would have liked that too but his tight-lipped DI was a hard suspect to crack.

Hardy shot him another piercing glance. "Told you. My heart beat's off at times. That's what the pills are for."

On a whim, Baxter put out one of the things his brother had shared with him. Might as well see if he could throw Hardy off and get him out of his comfort zone. A tactic that worked with lying criminals, so why not with a notorious reclusive like his friend. "So, do you need a pacemaker then?"

For a split second, Baxter thought Hardy was going to pass out on him right there and then. Hardy sucked in a deep breath and clasped his hands, but not quick enough that Baxter didn't notice the tremble. _Not such a sophisticated liar after all, DI Hardy_ , he thought. Baxter suppressed a pleased grin. He didn't really feel happy though. Hardy's reaction made him eternally worried about his friend.

"Erm… don't know for sure yet," Hardly mumbled, Scottish accent slurring his words. His pale face had turned bright red and he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. At least he had the decency to feel bad about his lie. Baxter left it at that, not wanting to push him over the edge. His memory of his daughter's struggle to come to terms with her life-threatening illness was still too vivid in his mind. He couldn't be harsh on his friend. He put his hand on Hardy's knee and leaned a bit closer, making sure that their eyes met.

"All right then. You don't have to tell me more, but if you want to talk, I'm always here. Anytime, anywhere. Just keep me in the loop. If you need time off, you can have it. Whenever, no questions asked. Let me know how I can help, as a friend or boss. Doesn't matter." He was sincere and he hoped that Hardy believed and trusted him enough. Hardy squirmed in his seat, rubbing his tongue over his teeth. Baxter wondered what it was that he was trying to get out.

"Do you… do you think I could get a uniformed officer to drive me around a bit if I need to go places?" His face was bright red now and he studied the floor intently.

Baxter was utterly bewildered. "Since when do you not want to drive?"

"Since I almost killed Daisy in the car this morning," Hardy blurted out. Hardy's head snapped up and Baxter knew immediately that Hardy had not wanted to reveal this information. Baxter was shocked. And then an intense fear started to build in his stomach. What if this wasn't one of the more manageable and somewhat more harmless diseases that his brother had told him about but something much more serious, life-threatening even?

"Alec, what are you not telling me?" Baxter asked calmly, forcing himself not to panic. He stared into Hardy's pale face and he saw his own fear mirrored in those wide hazel eyes. Hardy shook his head.

"I don't wanna talk about it, Ed. Not here, not now. I can't. Just let me do my job. Please, I need to finish this case." The desperation in Hardy's voice was painful.

"How can I let you do that if you're not telling me the truth, ey? How can I know that you're not being reckless with yourself? Wouldn't be the first time. You're such stubborn arse at times, I can't even…" Baxter trailed off, too upset to be able to finish without the excessive use of expletives.

Hardy sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. When he spoke, he sounded more composed than he looked. "You're right. How could you trust me? Don't have the best track record when it comes to taking care of myself. I am trying my best to keep it all together. I am taking my medication, I'm seeing my doctor and I will tell Tess about everything this weekend, I promise. And I may need to take some time off soon but not until this is finished, Ed. I'm not done here yet and we both know that it might not get done if I'm not around. All I'm asking from you is to have some faith in me, please?" Hardy begged him.

And Baxter would have been almost willing to go with it, if it hadn't been for Hardy's breathless words, his haggard and pale face and the dark circles under his eyes. He looked ill and there was no denying the truth.

"I can't Alec. When I look at you, I can tell that you're not well. I can tell how tired you are and that you're barely holding it together. I've witnessed several times where your body failed you and I can't ignore that. Not anymore. Not as a boss and certainly not as a friend. You shouldn't be working, you should be at home, resting and have this issue taken care of." Baxter was kind but firm.

Hardy looked up and fixed his eyes on him. Baxter shuddered. There was a bleakness in them that made him feel very unsettled.

"Ed, this might well be the last case that I ever work on. I pulled out that girl from the water and she haunts me. She was the same age as Daisy. How can I let her family down? How can I let _her_ down? You're a father, put yourself in my shoes for one moment. If we can't solve this, if _I_ can't solve this, I don't know what it will do to me. It's getting to me, Ed. I don't sleep anymore, I have nightmares with the dead girl and then she turns into Daisy and I just don't…" He choked up and abruptly stopped talking. He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Baxter was aching for his friend. Moving closer, he put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him tight until Hardy's head rested against his chest, a desperate attempt at comforting this man who was losing the battle to all the anguish he had been holding onto for the last weeks. Baxter had feared this might happen considering how more and more in the past months Hardy had been affected by the cases he had been working on. Hardy had told him in the past that dealing with a child murder might well be his worst nightmare and it sure looked like it now. The stress this put him under couldn't be good for whatever heart disease he had. Baxter's thoughts were racing, desperately trying to find a solution for this impossible situation.

He resorted to the most pragmatic approach. It was Friday. They wouldn't get the arrest warrant until Monday most likely as they didn't have enough evidence to press the issue. Maybe he could buy himself and Hardy some time over the weekend? If he sent Hardy home and let him rest, maybe he'd be in better shape by Monday and they could reassess the situation. It wasn't a solution but at least things – rather Hardy – could calm down for a couple of days until Baxter had more time to think it through.

"Alec, listen to me. What where you planning on doing with the rest of the day?" He let go of his friend. Hardy sucked in some air, wiped at his eyes and then stared straight ahead.

"Was going to talk to the Gillespies. I wanted to feel them out about Ashworth and his wife. Maybe we can find a motive," he muttered under his breath.

That didn't sound too strenuous, so maybe he could let him get away with it. "All right. This is what we're going to do. You question the Gillespies. After that, I want you to go home and rest over the weekend. Talk to Tess, straighten things out. When next week are you seeing your doctor again?"

"Monday, she wants to discuss some things." Hardy sounded rather vague about that, but Baxter was willing to let it slide.

"Good. You go see your doctor and when you come back to work, we'll talk more. We might have the warrant by then and maybe we can all tuck it in within the next few days anyways." It might be wishful thinking but he felt the need to give Hardy and himself something to hold on to.

"Ed, I'm sorry for…" Baxter interrupted before Hardy could get too embarrassed.

"Look, I didn't find the girl. But I am a father and this case is getting to me as well. I understand your need to see this through. But _you_ have to understand that I have a responsibility to the families, to the public and not the least to you to make sure that this is done properly without causing further harm to anyone involved and that includes you as well. I'm not taking you off the case yet as we both know what's at stake, but I want to know everything you do and what your doctor says on Monday. I am serious when I tell you to take the weekend off. I'll cover for you, so don't worry and if there is something you really need to know, I promise I'll call you." Baxter put his hand on Hardy's shoulder again, underlining his words with the reassuring gesture.

Hardy looked defeated and he opened his mouth to say something, but then didn't, just shaking his head. He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, holding on tight to the back of his head, burying himself between his elbows.

"What do I do?" he breathed more to himself than anyone. He sounded so lost. Baxter's heart broke.

"Alec, I'm here for you. We'll get through this. Go do what you wanted to do today, then go home and rest over the weekend. Talk to Tess, spend time with Daisy. Focus on what's truly important, your family and your health. Everything else can be sorted out. You're not alone."

Hardy took in his words. Eventually he nodded and released his head form his tight grasp. When he looked up and thanked Baxter, there was a calm resolve in his face and Baxter allowed himself to feel some hope that he would be all right after all. Hardy clambered to his feet and without another word trudged out of his office just as slowly as he had walked in.

Once the door was closed, Baxter finally let go of a breath that felt as if he had been holding it for an eternity. He stared at the wall, not wanting to think further about the possibility that one of his best friends might suffer from a serious life-threatening illness. And the fact that he got himself talked into covering for him. If that should ever get out, not only Hardy's career was on the line, but his own as well. After a few minutes of agonizing failure to try and rationalize his actions, he gave up and accepted the fact that he made this decision because Hardy was his friend. Nothing else. And when it would come back to bite him in the rear at some day or other, he would stand by it, because that was what Alec Hardy would have done for him as well.

He sighed and picked up the phone to call the CPS office to request the warrant. Maybe this spook would be over soon enough. Baxter tried to ignore the nagging voice in his brain that kept telling him differently, that voice that gave him the eerie sensation that this case tainted everybody it touched. Hardy's talk about ghosts sure had rubbed off on him and he couldn't shake the feeling for the rest of the day.

* * *

Hardy hurried to leave the building, needing to escape the stifling air in the station. His face was burning and his head was throbbing. He had lost control. His illness had finally taken over and there was not much he could do about it. It made him furious and deeply frightened at the same time. Furious because he had let it get that far and frightened because it actually had gotten that far. Baxter had teased it out of him although he still hadn't told him about the planned procedure. It was surprising that his boss hadn't suspended him immediately and Hardy wondered how pathetic he must have been to convince Baxter to not take him off the case right away. Somewhere inside a tiny voice chanted its relief to be able to rest over the weekend, but he chose to ignore it.

He dreaded the conversation he needed to have with Tess. Considering how their interactions had been of late he could already hear her accusations and scolding remarks. Luckily she had long given up viewing him as perfect, so there was one less thing to be concerned about. He snorted at his own sarcasm. There was a sharp pain in his chest leaving him winded and he stopped abruptly, bracing himself against a lamp post.

"Talking a walk, inspector?"

His head snapped up. Karen White was the last person he wanted to see at this very moment.

"None of your business, Ms. White," he snarled at her, straightening up his aching body. She was wearing that smug grin of hers and studying him intently.

"Shouldn't you be questioning suspects or the like? Oh wait… you don't have any. Are you hoping to find them lined up in the street?" she went on, spreading her venom.

Hardy rolled his eyes. "That's a rather pathetic attempt at riling me up, even for you. If you think you can get me to talk by insulting me, you really have no idea who you're dealing with."

"Oh, I think I have a very good idea who I'm dealing with. I've seen all the files on the Carter case, DI Hardy. Do you always run around with your weapon half-cocked?"

Hardy froze. Karen White stared at him and her face showed how pleased she was with herself. If he didn't come up with a good answer, she would win. There wasn't a good one though. Not for that day, not ever.

"I don't carry a gun, Ms. White," he admitted quietly. "And I only did that day because we knew Carter was violent and dangerous. My superiors insisted. Believe me, I wish I hadn't." Maybe he had revealed too much, but he couldn't help himself.

"But you saved your wife's life, didn't you? And your unborn daughter's," she added. Hardy glared at her, pressing his lips together. He had already let her in way more than he ever should have. When he didn't say anything, she came closer and looked him straight in the eye.

"You know, I actually do have an idea of what kind of man you are. You would do anything to protect your family, even if it's unreasonable or reckless. And you would do anything to solve a case, especially a case like the murder of those two girls, no matter what the cost. Personal or professional. I'm quite sure it was you who dragged Pippa's body out of the water, my editor just won't let me write it as I can't prove it. But there are other things to write about, aren't there?"

Something inside Hardy broke. His tired mind and body couldn't fight her anymore. "Please don't do that. Don't write about what happened that day. My daughter doesn't know about it and she shouldn't. Even my wife only remembers half of what happened. I'll tell you what I can about the investigation, but please leave my family out of it."

He had yet again lost another battle and her broad smile made him want to throw up. "See, anything to protect your family. Let me buy you a cup of tea and we'll talk."

Beaten, he followed her. He knew he would regret this, but she had him cornered and he had no way out. His mind was frantically trying to come up with answers for her questions that she hadn't even posed yet. After picking up tea at the corner shop, they ended up on a bench in the nearby park. He was slowly twirling the cup in his hands. It was regular tea and he didn't dare to drink a sip.

"I'm not going to ask who your suspects are as I know you won't and can't tell me. I get that. But what I do want to know is if you've found anything that would bring you closer to an arrest," she began the interview.

He gave her a sideways glance. That wasn't so bad. He nodded. "Aye, we have some leads."

"I talked to Ricky Gillespie. He seems to not like his neighbors very much. Any chance they are involved?" She was scrutinizing his every move.

"I can't comment on that," Hardy replied, shaking his head. Good thing that years of being a skilled police interrogator made it easy for him to keep his face impassive.

"So why did you bring them in for questioning then?" she insisted.

"Routine interview of possible witnesses. They live next door," he answered carefully. If she printed any of her suspicions in the paper before they could get to Ashworth, they were done. His thoughts were racing how to best deter her from his prime suspect.

"And you want me to believe that?" She huffed. "I'm not an idiot, DI Hardy. You've brought in Lee Ashworth twice already and I believe his wife has come around a few times as well. That's more than routine."

Hardy turned and faced her. The more he would deny it, the more she would believe it to be true, no doubt. Maybe she had some integrity and he could appeal to her. It was worth a try. "Karen, you told me you want justice for these families. If you don't let us do our job without dragging things through your paper before we can confirm anything, then you certainly won't help anybody. I told you we are following some leads and I promise when we have more to report, I'll let you know first. But I can't disclose anything else without jeopardizing the investigation. Please, just leave it at that."

She held his gaze for a long time, not giving anything away in her expression. "Fine. You promise me the exclusive and I will tread lightly. But don't think for one second I won't come after you if you break your end of the deal." The threat wasn't even disguised.

"And you're going to leave my family alone?" There was the tiniest bit of anxiety in his voice and he hated himself for giving even that to her.

She shrugged. "Depends on my editor. He's got the final call. You can't have it both ways. Either the case or the human interest story. We've got to write about something." She was so nonchalant about it that Hardy knew she was lying.

"No you don't. You don't have to write about something that happened almost fifteen years ago and has no bearing on what's going on right now. You have a choice and if you want my cooperation, I hope you make the right one." He got up, throwing the untouched tea in the garbage can. "I think we're done here."

He walked away without looking back and just like last time he could feel her piercing stare between his shoulder blades. As soon as he was sure she couldn't see him, he pulled out his phone and texted Baxter that they might have a problem at hand. It didn't take long for his boss to call back.

"Hardy, why are you not home yet?" Baxter sounded annoyed.

"You told me to go question the Gillespies. Was on my way there when Karen White held me up."

There was a muttered curse at the other end. "What did she want? You didn't faint or something in front of her, did you?"

Hardy rolled his eyes. "No, I didn't. I'm not an invalid who falls over every time you look at him."

"Could have fooled me," Baxter mumbled.

"Ach, shut up already with the heart and listen to me, Ed," Hardy snapped back.

"Did you just tell me to shut up? Unbelievable. Should suspend you for insubordination."

Hardy groaned. Why couldn't he simply listen to what he had to say?

"Ed, she threatened to print that we are investigating the Ashworths. Did you get anywhere with the warrant?"

"Bloody hell. Not yet. The CPS is reviewing it but they are taking their sweet time, might not go through until Monday."

"Monday?" Hardy's pitch shifted up. "What do these people think this is about? Shop lifting?"

"Alec, don't get upset. It's a weak call anyways and you know that. We are lucky if we get anywhere," Baxter tried to appease him. Hardy knew he was right but still. It was infuriating because he was sure that Ashworth was guilty but he just couldn't get enough evidence together to prove it.

"Fine," he sighed. "I talked her into not printing anything about it. Yet."

"And how did you to that?" Baxter was more than suspicious.

"I might have promised her an exclusive when we know more," Hardy muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the bollocking.

"For God's sake, Hardy. Why would you do that? You're letting yourself getting sucked into her game and there is no doubt in my mind that you'll regret that," Baxter yelled at him.

"Ed, she has all the files from the Carter case and she's going to make a story of it. I had to give her something," Hardy shouted back, matching his boss' exasperation.

"Oh, and you think your promise of an exclusive will dissuade her from letting go of a juicy story like that? Are you really that gullible?" Baxter barked into the phone. Hardy flinched.

"No, I'm not but what else was I supposed to do?" Desperation was lacing his words.

Baxter didn't reply immediately. He took in a deep breath and let it out. Hardy was leaning against the wall of the parking garage, breathing equally as heavily. He fished out his pills and swallowed two. He was light headed again and didn't want to risk another serious attack.

"I guess you did what you could. Now we'll just have to see what this bloody journalist makes of it," Baxter sighed into the phone eventually. Hardy dragged a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I tried." He unsuccessfully attempted to hide the exhaustion in his voice.

It didn't go unnoticed. Baxter's voice was softer now. "You sound tired, Alec. Maybe you should go home and leave the Gillespies to Tess or Dave. I'm sure…"

"No. Absolutely not," Hardy interjected. "The two of them have talked to the Gillespies already and nothing came from it. I have to do this myself. I'll go there and then straight home."

When Baxter didn't say anything, Hardy pleaded, "Ed, please. I'll be fine. Don't take this away from me, I need to do this. I need to know that I didn't leave anything unturned."

"I don't want to hear anything else from you over the weekend. Go home after and do nothing, that's an order. Do you hear me?" Baxter growled, worry making his voice gravelly.

"Aye. I'll see you Monday then." Baxter snorted a goodbye and Hardy hung up. Time was running out and the sense of urgency was growing inside him.

He found PC Jensen and fed him a story about his car being in the shop, needing a driver for the day. Jensen was not pleased to play chauffeur for his ill-tempered boss but Hardy was civil enough during the ride. He was staring out the window letting his thoughts drift. They always came back to that dreary November morning when he shot Gregory Carter in order to save his pregnant wife's life. In front of Carter's eight year old son. The image of the blood spattered pale face of the wide eyed boy had burned itself into Hardy's memory just as much as Pippa's bloated face had. He shivered. Why did it always have to be children?


	18. CHAPTER 17

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and sticking around to follow Alec's 13 has more in stock for our favorite detective… A special shout out to hazelmist who thought she wouldn't be able to take a certain scene seriously after we've joked about it for so long, but then she read it… Thank you for all your support and enthusiasm, my friend. And as I know how much you liked this chapter this is FOR YOU HAZELMIST!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 17**

Cate opened the door. Hardy hadn't seen her in a few days and he had trouble hiding the shock over her disheveled appearance. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes were framed by dark circles and her hair was unkempt. From the look of her sweat pants and T-shirt she might have been wearing those for a while already. She let him in without saying a word. When she led him into the living room, it was clear that alcohol had become her new best friend. Several empty wine bottles were lined up on the floor and although it was early in the day, there was a glass waiting for her. She didn't hesitate to take another big swig and then sat down on the sofa, staring out the window.

It broke his heart to see her that way. Words of comfort didn't come to his mind and so he joined her in her silence until she finally spoke, slurring her speech.

"You know what the worst thing is? Every morning I wake up not remembering that she's gone and then when that moment comes where reality falls into place… it just hits me that I won't be able to hug her, talk to her, have her around, and I go through the same pain every morning, over and over again. The moment I realize that she's gone forever… it breaks me every time. I can't forget… believe me I've tried."

Hardy didn't need much convincing, considering her appearance. He didn't judge though. It was not his place and how could he anyways? This mother had lost her child to a violent crime for which they still hadn't found an explanation for or a guilty party. And even if they did, it wasn't going to bring her back as Cate had so aptly stated.

"I'm sorry, Cate." It sounded so hopelessly insufficient but what else was there to say. Tears were running down her cheeks.

"I miss her so much." She wiped her face and looked at him. "Do you have children, DI Hardy?"

Hoarsely, he replied, "Aye, a daughter." He wanted to look away but she followed his gaze with her wounded eyes.

"Can you imagine her not being around anymore?" Cate's quivering voice grated on his frayed nerves. He briefly closed his eyes only to be greeted by Pippa's ghost and another jolt of his heart.

"DI Hardy, what are you doing here?" Ricky's angry question saved him from having to answer. "Is he bothering you, Cate?"

She shook her head, not looking at Ricky. Hardy stood up, sensing that he wasn't really welcomed. He needed to talk to them though.

"Do you have any news? Because if you don't we're done answering questions," Ricky threw at him, stepping into Hardy's personal space.

"Christ, leave him alone. It's not like he did it, he's just trying to do his job," Cate muttered while she put the glass to her lips.

"If he was doing his job, then we would already have the killer behind bars," Ricky retorted. His blue eyes bore through Hardy who held his gaze without flinching. Hardy absorbed the pain that came with the angry glare. The sorrow he felt for this family was burning inside him and he was joining Ricky in his sentiment of frustration over his failings as a detective. He resisted the urge to be defensive. Nobody would be helped with excuses and sham explanations.

"Ricky, I came to talk to you and Cate about who Pippa spent her time with besides friends from school. You had mentioned your neighbors for example?" Hardy hoped the question wasn't too leading or giving away too much information.

Ricky squinted at him and Hardy noticed his expression change. It confused Hardy but before he was able to make sense of it, it was gone.

"Pippa liked Lee a lot. She kept going on and on about how much fun he was," Cate volunteered. "I think Lisa might have liked him too. I caught her a few times looking at him in a much more grown up way than I thought was appropriate."

"Did you ever notice Lee Ashworth making any moves on Lisa?" Hardy was curious. Throughout the whole investigation several people had hinted at Lisa being more than just casually interested. Ashworth himself vehemently denied any involvement with the teenager.

Cate shook her head but Hardy caught Ricky's face out of the corner of his eye. A furrow had etched itself in Ricky's forehead and his lips were downturned. Hardy turned his attention to Pippa's father.

"What about you? Did Lisa ever mention anything? Or did you observe anything concerning?" Hardy pried.

Ricky hesitated and eventually shook his head. For Hardy, the delay in response was more telling than words could have been. Either Lisa was into Ashworth or the other way round or maybe it was mutual. He just couldn't prove it, like everything else in this case.

"Claire said that she was doing your hair before going to the wedding. Do you remember where Pippa was at the time?"

Cate frowned. "I think she was upstairs. She might have come in briefly when Lisa came round but I didn't see much of either one of them that afternoon."

"Did Claire mention anything about what their evening plans were?" Hardy didn't expect her to remember but he felt like he should ask.

"What day was it again? Saturday? Claire always goes out Saturdays to hang out with her girlfriends. I went with her a couple of times. I think she might have said she had to hurry with the hair because she was meeting someone." Hardy's heart almost stopped. If that was the case then Ashworth's alibi was indeed built on shaky ground. Cate might have just given him enough leverage with Claire so he could get the truth out of her.

"Do you know when Lee came home that evening?" He might as well continue to see what else would surface.

"I heard him work on that floor he was redoing in his living room. Must have been while Claire was doing my hair. Don't recall the exact times though."

That matched what Claire had said. His eyes darted back and forth between the couple. They were not looking at each other and considering the fact that the death of a child often amplified marital issues he wasn't feeling very hopeful for their future. He berated himself for the cynicism. Who was he to judge their marriage from the brief glimpses he had gotten over the last two weeks? His gaze rested on Ricky who was still wearing a scowl.

"Your neighbors come to your house a lot. Is that correct?"

Ricky nodded. "Yes, they do. Lee has done a lot of handiwork around both places. I had him put in a door between the two yards."

Hardy let his eyes wander out the window. The two properties were only separated by a tall wooden fence. It struck him as a bit odd that there would be such an easy way to go back and forth.

"Why would you have him do that?" He realized he sounded more judgmental than he probably should.

Ricky pulled himself up to his full height. "Why not? We often have BBQs and dinners together, makes it more convenient." He paused and ran his hand through his hair. When he looked back up, Hardy thought he spotted a brief glimpse of guilt in his eyes. "Actually Pippa wanted it. She said it made it easier to go visit them which she liked to do a lot." Ricky fell silent, lost in his thoughts.

"Did either Claire or Lee have any reason to go upstairs in any of your bedrooms, including Pippa's?"

Their hesitation didn't escape Hardy's attention. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but he felt very strongly he was missing something. Ricky was the one who decided to answer.

"Lee has done some repairs in the master bathroom. Not sure if Pippa ever took him to her room. I think Claire might have been hanging out with Pippa upstairs. Why are you asking? Do you suspect that they are involved in any way?" Ricky's tone had changed. There was an anxious edge to it which Hardy had a difficult time placing.

Hardy shifted on his feet. His body was tense. Those were questions he'd rather not answer. Before he could say anything, Ricky continued.

"We shouldn't have been as trusting. Who knows what he could have done to her driving her around all the time?" he blurted out angrily.

"Ricky!" Cate snapped at her husband. "Why would you say that? We have no reason to believe that Lee or Claire would ever do anything bad to Pippa. They liked her and they're our friends."

"How do you know that? Pippa's gone and if it wasn't someone else's fault then who remains to be blamed? You? Me?" Ricky spat back at her. Cate pressed her lips together and Hardy thought she would let it go, but she didn't.

"Maybe we should be. We left them alone, by themselves. If we hadn't done that, they'd still be alive." Cate was shouting by now, her voice trembling with the anguish she must have over the guilt of leaving her child behind defenseless. Hardy was uncomfortable being caught in the middle of this argument. He filed away Ricky's suspicion of his neighbors and Cate's defense. He didn't think he would gain much more from questioning them while they were so caught up in their feelings of guilt and remorse over their own actions.

"Would you mind showing me that door?" Maybe he could tease out a bit more why Ricky wasn't convinced of the innocence of his tenants.

Ricky huffed, but he led the way outside. He pointed out where the door had been cut out of the fence and opened it for Hardy. There was nothing special about it beside the fact that it existed.

"If you don't mind, I'll have our forensics team come by and take another look."

"Suit yourself." Ricky was leaning against the fence and shot him a glance from below. "How do you do that?"

"How do you do what? Take another look?" Hardy was confused.

"No. How do you do your job? How can you put everything aside and live with what you know?" Ricky clarified quietly.

Hardy sucked in a deep breath and before his tired mind could restrain itself, the words escaped his mouth, "I can't."

Ricky's gaze whipped up and the two men stared at each other. It was Ricky who broke the silence.

"You said your daughter is the same age as Pippa, right?" Hardy nodded. It wasn't only that he didn't trust his voice, but also the fact that there was a sharp pain growing in his chest which left him winded.

"How would you feel if you left her behind and something happened to her? I should have never done that. I promised to keep her safe and I didn't. How am I gonna live with that?" Ricky scrubbed his face down. There was a moist glitter in his eyes. Hardy stepped up to him and placed a timid hand on his shoulder. He didn't know how to comfort this father who was so overcome by sorrow and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Ricky. I'm not in your situation, but I do have a daughter and my heart broke the day I found Pippa. I don't have any answers for you how you can live with what happened. But what I can get you answers for is the who and why. And I promise you I won't rest until that is accomplished."

Hardy could not have been more sincere and not for the first time in these two weeks he realized how meaningful these words really were. At least to him and Pippa's ghost.

Ricky shot him another sideways glance. "So Karen White is right then. You did pull Pippa out of the water." It was a quiet statement but it shook Hardy's world. His hand slipped off Ricky's shoulder to come to rest against the fence, bracing him against the ever growing lightheadedness. He didn't deny it, there was no use and he felt oddly obligated not to lie to Pippa's father.

"Thank you for doing that."

Hardy's heart skipped some beats. And some more. His eyelids drooped and he heavily fell against the fence. He felt Ricky's hand on his shoulder. _Pull yourself together, Hardy_. He opened his eyes and was greeted by Ricky's scowl again. This time it was concern though.

"Wow, mate. Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

And in a way he had, hadn't he? Pippa's father had no idea that it was his daughter though. He took in some heavy breaths and eventually he was able to talk.

"Sorry. Got this stomach bug and probably didn't drink enough fluids. Just got a bit lightheaded." He pushed himself off the fence and managed not to sway.

"You had me scared there for a moment, mate. Must be a pretty bad one, ey?" Ricky seemed to buy his lame excuse. "Let me get you some water." He walked back into the house and Hardy followed him slowly. His fingers were popping out his pills in his pocket and he managed to sneak them into his mouth before he was handed a glass. He drank it obediently, swallowing the bitter medicine.

"Thanks. I should get going," he muttered, turning towards the door.

"DI Hardy?" Ricky called him back. "I don't share Cate's perspective on Lee and Claire and I appreciate you taking all possibilities into consideration." His voice was low and sent a shiver down Hardy's spine. He nodded and closed the door behind him, shutting out the ever looming darkness that threatened to overcome him every time he stepped into their house.

* * *

Hardy had sent PC Jensen back to the station after he dropped him off at the house. The tight grip of the dreariness that had taken hold over him left him with a trapped feeling. Something he sure didn't want to bring home with him. He slid his phone back into his coat pocket and instead of calling a taxi cab he walked slowly away from the Gillespie house. His feet and mind wandered alike, with no particular aim, just wanting to escape.

The monotone streets and buildings of the middle class housing estate blended together and soon he lost track if he was going in circles or not. When he reached the edge he finally recognized where he was headed. He hesitated. The wind had picked up and it might rain soon. He shoved his hands in his pockets, brushing his coat back with his arms. The gusts tugged on the black cloth and he shivered in the cold. It was a cool day even for the end of April. The sun was half way down the horizon but it would still be light for a couple more hours.

He put one foot on the gravel path and then another. He stood for what seemed an eternity. The hairs on his back were sticking up and he turned around. There was nobody. He looked back to the houses with all their signs of life and happiness. And then he turned and walked towards the river.

* * *

When he finally reached the woods that were lining the river bank, every fiber in his body was protesting the strain it had been put under. He hadn't eaten much and felt uncomfortably warm. His chest ached and each breath seemed harder to take than the one before. In his doctor's eyes the three mile walk certainly would qualify as unnecessary exertion, but in his it didn't. He could not have gone home after his conversation with Ricky and Cate.

His feet had taken him down the same path he walked when he found Pippa. It was darker under the trees and clouds were obscuring the light even more. He paused, resting his hand on the smooth bark of a tall beech tree. The rays of the setting sun were filtering through the lush greens of the spring leaves, bathing the bluebells into patches of light and dark. The sea of flowers he had walked through less than a fortnight ago was wilting and most of the stems were now carrying drooping blossoms.

He hadn't come back to the river since that day. Only in his dreams. The bank was still a few hundred yards away but he could see the glistening water peeking through the woods. He straightened up and took a few more steps. And just like that day, rain drops started falling, making soft plopping noises on the leaves. They didn't reach him yet but he could feel water dripping down his hands. His arms were heavy from a weight he didn't seem to be able to let go of.

He stumbled through the flowers under the roof of the branches, catching his balance more than once on the trees. The closer he got to the water, the chillier his bones felt like they had when he had been lying on the riverbank. He wasn't sure if his ailing heart played tricks with his mind but he was sure someone was watching him, feeling the same eerie sensation at the nape of his neck as he had before. He jumped when a twig of shrubbery brushed against his leg, triggering a sudden memory of a hand reaching for him from the water.

The rain was getting heavier and when he reached the river, it was yet again forming a million craters in the gushing stream. He didn't know what had driven him to come back to this place, the place where his life changed forever, but Pippa's ghost was right there with him, he didn't even have to close his eyes. His hands were trembling and the rain mixed with the murky river water again, dripping hot off his long fingers. Slowly he was getting soaked while he stood and stared. He blinked away his tears. A choking sound escaped his throat and he felt water rushing down his throat, making him gag and cough. His mind was filled with one burning thought. He needed for it to stop, to let him out of the deathly claws his nightmare had him gripped in. When he finally caught his breath, he turned and ran. Or at least he tried to. All he could will his body to do was a fast stagger towards the illusory safety of the bluebell woods.

His heart was staggering just as much. His tired legs tripped over a root and gave out under him. He lurched forward, barely catching his fall against the silvery stem of one of the tall beech trees. His body thudded hard against the wood and a sudden emptiness in his chest heralded nothing good. While he slowly slid down the tree's trunk, clutching his chest, taking in what could very well be his last breaths, his thoughts were with his daughter and her gorgeous smile that she only gave him and no one else.

"'M sorry, darlin'," he breathed before the dark swallowed him amidst the wilting field of bluebells.

* * *

The musty scent of forest earth that had recently been rained on was pleasantly filling his senses. He took in a deep breath and savored the smell. He smiled over the distant memories of summer holidays and running through the woods as a boy. Those days of happiness and bliss seemed endless until the moment on the cliffs when they weren't anymore. The smile faded and he cringed with the image of his mother against the dark horizon and he turned to run away from it all. He stumbled and his eyes flew open with a gasp.

He was surrounded by the dark. The first thing his foggy mind processed was the grit and dirt scraping against his face. He tried lifting his head but was immediately greeted by a sharp pain in his neck, so he rested his cheek against the damp earth again. His eyes fell shut and the pain slowly ebbed away until only a dull ache remained. The ground beneath was cold and it seeped into his bones, draining all his strength. He wanted to get up but his weak limbs wouldn't let him. All he could do was roll over onto his back. More pain sparked through his numb and stiff body and a whimper escaped his throat.

Drizzly rain drops were falling on his face while he stared up into the night sky. The stars were obscured by the leaves of the trees and clouds above them. Slowly, his disorientation subsided and he began to remember where he was. Eventually, he was able to pick himself up and clamber to his knees. He was shaking in the cold night, completely soaked and frozen.

 _You're a moron, Hardy_ , he berated himself. What had possessed him to walk three miles to the place that would surely trigger uncomfortable memories? He didn't need to look far to answer that question. He scrubbed his stiff hands over his face, trying to wipe away the dirt. All he achieved was to more evenly distribute the smudges over his cool skin. He fished through his pockets for his phone. The screen was dead.

"Ach, for fuck's sake," he shouted into the night, yelling at no one but himself. The tree that had caught his fall earlier served again to steady him as he pulled himself up to his feet. His teeth were chattering and he was so cold. The moon light was just about strong enough to read the time on his watch, 9:48 P.M., hours after he had left the Gillespie house. He ignored the profoundly unsettling feeling that came with the realization that he had been out for that long. He also ignored the fact that he had passed out again and this time nobody found him. Instead he focused on the issue of how to get home or at least back to civilization. He highly doubted that he had another three mile walk in him after not even making it through the first one.

He remembered the narrow lane not too far from the river. This was a rather desolate area, not many people coming by and surely not at this hour of the night. He let go of the tree, testing his steadiness. It would have to do. By the time he reached the lane, he had only tripped four times over two roots, a small bush and a random branch. He didn't count the time when he stepped into a hole and fell flat on his face. Again. At least his clothes were already ruined, so it didn't really matter. He had run out of swear words and resorted to groaning only. To look on the bright side of things, his body was warming up a bit with his struggle to get back.

It took him a few minutes to decide which direction to walk on the lane. He couldn't risk getting even farther away from the town. Exhaustion was washing over him and the temptation to sit and go to sleep was strong. The rain had picked up again and was dripping off his hair, cold water trickling down the back of his neck and his spine. Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, trudging along, driven by sheer stubbornness.

Finally someone found him. He had lost track of time and the cold was omnipresent in his mind and body. When the person dragged him into his car, he didn't care if he was about to get mugged, beaten or both. All that mattered was a place to sit that wasn't wet and the hot blowing air of the heater. He had the suspicion that the man had already asked him a few times where he lived or what his name was before it registered with his fatigued brain. He muttered an apology and gave him his address. As soon as the car started moving he drifted off.

Heavy hands shook him awake, jolting his strained heart into whatever abnormal rhythm du jour it chose to default to. It didn't faze him. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"Hey, mate! Is this your house?" the man all but shouted in his ear. Hardy's eyes snapped open. He blinked into the light, right when the door opened and silhouetted Tess against the bright doorway.

"Aye," he breathed and moved his stiff legs, forcing himself to climb out of the car. Tess had walked down half the driveway, cardigan wrapped tightly around her. He didn't need to see her face to know how furious she was.

"Ey, careful there," the man exclaimed, steadying him when lightheadedness made Hardy sway.

"'M all right," he mumbled, harnessing the last bit of energy he could dig up. "Thanks for the ride. Not everyone would have picked up a stranger." Hardy meant it.

The man snorted. "No offence, mate, but you didn't really look like a viable threat when I found you staggering through the night. You're lucky I was out that late and Sparky found you."

Hardy assumed Sparky was a dog. He had no recollection. "I guess I was then," he said and shook the man's hand. There was a pat on the shoulder and then the man left. They never exchanged names.

"Where have you been?" Tess voice was trembling with anger. "And where the fuck is your car?"

He wordlessly trudged by her, drawn by the promise of warmth and rest by the lit up door. She hurried after him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn to her. The light from inside the house hit his dirty face and Tess gasped.

"For fuck's sake, look at the state of you. What did you do to yourself, you bloody idiot?" Anger was now mixed with worry.

"Don't start, Tess," he growled, too exhausted for civilities.

"Don't start?" she echoed him. "Are you fucking insane? I was worried shitless. Nobody knows where you've been, not at the station, not at dispatch, nowhere. I even called the fucking hospital to make sure you weren't lying somewhere alone on a stretcher dying, you fuckwit. I was ready to send out some uniforms to search for you. And all you have to say for yourself is 'Don't start'. You're an arsehole, Alec, and that's all _I'm_ going to say," she yelled and stormed into the house, slamming the door in his face. He sighed and rested his head against the wood. She was right, he _was_ an arsehole for scaring her that much. It had been utterly irresponsible to go for that walk, yet he couldn't shake that eerie sensation of feeling compelled to return to the river.

His frozen fingers fumbled with the keys in the lock when she opened from the inside. Before she could walk away he grabbed her arm.

"'M sorry, love. You're right. I am an arse for not letting you know where I was. My phone died and…"

"I don't care if your phone died, Alec," she interrupted him. "I don't even care that you didn't tell me. What I do care about is the fact that you just wandered off somewhere and then got brought home, soaked and filthy, by some random stranger. Where the hell have you been? And why? Your odd behavior in the last few days is fucking worrying me." She pulled him inside and helped him out of his drenched coat and jacket.

"I… I went to the river," he confessed subdued. A shiver ran over his body and he hugged himself. His teeth were chattering again.

Tess stilled. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression had changed. There was a softness and her eyes were sad, mirroring her smile. "Oh, Alec." Her hand came up to his cheek, wiping at the dirt with not much success. She took his hand and led him to the living room, gently pushing him down on the sofa. "Take off your wet clothes, I'll get you something to change into and some tea. You look like you're freezing." She tossed him a blanket and hurried out of the room.

Hardy peeled off everything, despite his protesting aching body. He popped two of his pills before Tess came back just for good measures. He'd have to catch up with his evening medications later. Then he wrapped himself in the blanket and leaned back on the sofa, eyes falling shut.

"Don't fall asleep down here again. You should go to bed." She handed him his pajama bottoms, together with underwear and one of his long sleeved thermal shirts. He gratefully slipped it over his cold body and snuggled into the blanket again. Tess sat down opposite him, putting down a mug with steaming tea for him.

"Alec, I think we need to talk," she said quietly.

He leaned forward and held onto the cup. He didn't look at her and nodded. The time had come, he couldn't hold back with his secrets any longer. He wished it didn't have to be right there and then as he was so exhausted that it was hard to even keep his eyes open. He took a sip and burned his tongue with the hot liquid. It helped to keep him awake.

"But not tonight," she added after a few silent moments. Hardy's gaze whipped up and found hers. Her blue eyes were moist and for the briefest of moments he thought he recognized that sadness again that had disturbed him so much a few days ago. It vanished with her smile.

"You're obviously exhausted. Nothing good's going to come from it if we talk now. Let me take you to bed. We'll have all day tomorrow." She stood and proffered her hand. He took it, pulling himself up, and let himself be led to their bedroom. Relief took away the last tension that had kept him upright and he fell on the covers like a dead man. She tucked him in and placed a timid kiss in his hair.

"Sweet dreams, Alec," she whispered while turning off the light. And with the burning hope that her wish would come true, that Pippa wouldn't haunt him once again, he fell asleep.


	19. CHAPTER 18

**A/N:** Hazel – a big thank you for yet again taking the time to read through. And thanks to everyone reading and commenting. Real life is keeping me busy but I'm trying my best to keep up with the weekly updates…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 18**

Hardy didn't stir until late the next morning. No nightmares, not after Pippa had already haunted him in the woods. He might have slept longer, if it wasn't for Tess angrily yelling at him.

"Alec! Wake up!"

He groaned, rolled over and hugged his pillow. "Leave me alone, Tess. I don't have to go to work. Just want to sleep." His whole body was aching from the prior day's misadventures.

She tossed something in his face.

"Oi, what'd you that for?" He plucked the newspaper off him and pulled his torso up against the head board.

"What did you tell that fucking journalist?" His eyes travelled from her angry scowl to the headlines of the morning paper. He squinted and barely was able to read the blaring letters of the main article's title.

' _Questionable Leadership Of Police Investigation – Will The Sandbrook Girls Ever Find Justice?'_

He sat up and patted around for his glasses. Tess threw them on the bed and he reluctantly put them on. First thing racking into focus was Karen White's smug smile in her byline photograph. He had no desire whatsoever to read what she had fabricated this time. Judging from Tess' piercing blue eyes, it had to be horrific.

He scanned over the atrocities she told about the case, the shoddy police work and her tirade about the poor parents suffering from the uncertainty of what happened to their precious child. Bile was rising in his throat but it wasn't until the last part that he had to suppress a gag.

' _This so far unproductive investigation is led by Detective Inspector Alec Hardy (41). DI Hardy, a Glasgow native, is the father of a teenaged daughter and when questioned how this might influence his abilities to stay detached enough to head this case, his lack of an answer was more than telling.'_

Hardy groaned. This bloody woman. Anxiously he continued reading, very much aware of Tess' impatient stare.

' _A reputation of being reckless proceeds him and therefore it is not surprising that there have been questionable breaches of police procedure, such as a single police officer rescuing the body of Pippa Gillespie out of the River Sandbrook. DI Hardy does have a track record of solving the cases he is entrusted with and on first glance appears qualified to be SIO in such a delicate crime. But when looking closer into his past it becomes evident that this qualification comes at a price.'_

Hardy's breath hitched and he shot a quick glance at his wife who was fuming. Reading on his worst fears were confirmed.

' _Going back to Alec Hardy's early career as a member of the Glasgow Police Constabulary, the case of Gregory Carter stands out. Gregory Carter, 32 years old at the time, was the main suspect as the leader of a large drug cartel which Hardy, then a Detective Sergeant, was investigating. Carter was also implicated in the murder of his wife, Mary, a 28 year old Irish woman.'_

Hardy was grasping the newspaper so hard that his knuckles turned white. His heart was fluttering in his chest and breathing became a chore. Tess had sat down on the bed next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You don't have to read this, Alec," she said gently. His head snapped up.

"And what is that going to change?" he growled, eyes dropping back to the spot where he had left off.

' _Lack of clear evidence forced the police to let Carter go after the initial arrest for narcotics possession and distribution as well as racketeering. Shortly after he was released out of custody, Mary Carter was found dead secondary to an overdose of heroine. Presumably she was being used as a drug mule. Gregory Carter was accused of beating his wife and indirectly causing her death through trauma to the abdomen and the ingested plastic bags perforating due to the impact. Carter claimed that it was police brutality that led to the death of his wife. After a lengthy investigation the police amounted enough evidence to arrest Carter. However, things did not go as planned and Carter escaped the arrest. DS Hardy and his colleague and wife DC Teresa Henchard Hardy were pursuing the suspect. A rather dramatic and unorthodox chase ended on a boat on the River Clyde.'_

Hardy was catapulted back to that fateful November morning. His chest tightened up and he slumped forward, a moan escaping his throat. The ground under him was rolling and nausea was building up in his stomach. He didn't dare closing his eyes, fearing to see Tess' blood spattered body in front of him, side by side with Brennan Carter's pale equally stained face. His hands were trembling and he dropped the paper, just like he had the gun that day. He bent down, fighting dizziness, and picked it up again. He forced himself to read on.

' _Carter was able to capture DC Henchard Hardy, drug her and use her as hostage. In a desperate attempt to save his then pregnant wife, DS Alec Hardy shot Gregory Carter resulting in Carter being mortally wounded and plummeting into the river. The scene was witnessed by Carter's eight year old son Brennan who followed his father into the water trying to save his father's life. The boy was subsequently rescued by DS Hardy. The body of Gregory Carter was recovered from the river later on.'_

Brennan's screams echoed through Hardy's mind as if it had been yesterday. As soon as Carter had fallen into the water, he caught Tess, cradling her blood spattered body in his arms. She was limp and breathing too slowly due to the drugs in her system. Then he heard the splash. He looked up and the boy was gone. He had followed his father into the river. A river that was treacherous and had taken the life of many. Hardy did not hesitate. Carefully, he placed Tess on the wooden planks, took off his coat, jacket and shoes while searching the murky water for the drowning boy. As soon as Hardy spotted him, he gathered all his courage and jumped into the ice cold stream.

The struggle to rescue Brennan had been just as desperate as when Hardy pulled out Pippa, and he had barely made it, dragging the kicking boy with him at all cost. As soon as they had reached the river bank, Brennan ran off and Hardy had no energy to follow him, his heart racing in his chest with the exertion. Knowing what he did now, it was probably a miracle he had survived. He shuddered, blinking a few times before he finished the article.

' _The case was investigated by DPS and the then DS Hardy was found to have been acting within police standards. In fact he was commended for saving another police officer's life. Despite this decoration, it does illustrate DI Alec Hardy's tendencies to be affected by personal issues and a certain reckless disregard for regular police procedures. Hence, we question the qualification of DI Hardy to objectively and successfully lead this current investigation of the murder of the Sandbrook girls.'_

The paper slipped out of his hand and sailed to the ground. Hardy stared ahead, breathing heavily. His heart was pounding in his chest.

"Alec, there was nothing else you could have done," Tess breathed into his ear, arm wrapped around his shoulder. "He was going to kill me and you know that. You had to do what you hadto."

He shook his head and buried his face in his hands. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears and he folded in on himself, hugging his abdomen.

"How will I ever know? The boy was eight, Tess. Just a kid and I shot his father right in front of him. And now everyone's going to know about it. Daisy is going to know!" he exclaimed, voice breaking. Tess didn't have anything to say. She tightened her grip around his shoulders and they sat in silence, both caught up in their own thoughts. Eventually she rose and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Take your time. I have to go to the station. Daisy should be up soon. Maybe you two could go out for breakfast? Spend some time together," Tess urged him.

He nodded, his mouth slightly open. When she was gone, he searched through his drawer for his pills. If his heart didn't calm down soon, there was no way he would be able to go out with Daisy. He laid back on the bed and curled around his pillow. Finally the tears were falling and he hid his sobs under the soft cushion until only emptiness was left inside.

* * *

Daisy wasn't the quietest teenager, especially not in the mornings. He listened to her thudding from her room to the bathroom and back, doors being closed noisily. She was humming a song he didn't recognize. Eventually she pounded down the stairs. He dragged himself up and out of bed. The newspaper was lying on the floor. He stared at it for a while until he picked it up and crumpled it between his two hands, groaning angrily.

Karen White had done what she said she would. She didn't write anything about the Ashworths, no, but she went all out on his past. Everyone, including his daughter, was going to know about the Carter case. But not only that. Tess and he had made such an effort ever since that day to keep their marriage quiet on the job out of fear something similar would happen. And now it was plastered all over the damned newspaper that she was his wife and that he had taken a life to save hers.

It was irrelevant if Carter had been a crazy, violent and dangerous individual who killed his own wife and most likely would never have been apprehended without a fight. All that mattered was that he as the police officer in charge that day had shot a man in front of his child. For what appeared to be his personal gain. Hardy knew that this wasn't what happened but to the outsider it could easily seem that way. It had back then and the fall out had not been pretty. It was one of the reasons why Tess and he had eventually left Glasgow because whenever anything didn't go smoothly the case was dragged out again. He had felt very fortunate that the South Mercia Police Constabulary had agreed to keep the case under seal and only the Chief of Police and his direct superior, Baxter, would know about it. Finally it had stopped following him around until this day.

He padded into the bathroom. When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he found himself yet again staring at it. The man looking back at him wasn't a happy one. His face and hair was crusty from the mud and dirt he hadn't washed off last night. His freckles stood out more on his pale skin and he sure didn't look like he had slept the whole night. He eyed the scales wondering if he should check if he lost more weight but decided against it. He didn't really need to. One glance at his gaunt cheeks was enough. After a quick shower, he got dressed, no tie, just slacks and a button down shirt. Daisy met him with a cup of tea in the kitchen, handing it to him with a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Ach Dad, you didn't shave. Again. What's with the scruffy look these days?" She was teasing him but not without an underlying real question.

He shrugged. "Dunno, didn't feel like doing it this morning." He stretched his stiff shoulders, flinching with the achiness. Which earned him another frown from Daisy.

"You didn't get hurt in the car yesterday, did you?"

He shot her a sideways glance and shook his head.

"You came home really late. Mum seemed worried. Everything okay? Your car isn't in the driveway."

 _Bollocks._ Sometimes he really wished she wasn't the child of two detectives. How was he going to explain that?

"Erm… it felt a little off, driving it after what happened. Took it to the shop, just to make sure nothing's wrong with it." He hoped that would convince her. Her eyes narrowed but she was willing to buy it.

"Do you… do you wanna go out for breakfast, darlin'?" Maybe focusing her attention on something else would get her off his back.

Her face lit up and she smiled broadly. She hopped off her chair. "Really? You have time?"

"Don't have to go in today or tomorrow." He smiled back at her, joining in on her excitement. He took a mental note to thank Baxter for making him stay home.

"Oh, Dad. I'd love to. We haven't done that in such a long time." She threw herself at him and snuggled against his chest. Hardy folded his long arms around her and placed a gentle kiss on her head.

"I know. 'M sorry for that," he mumbled into her hair. She looked up and smiled the smile that was solely his. He shoved away the eerie memory from the day before when he collapsed in the woods.

"It's all right, Dad. I get it. I'm just happy that we can do this today."

He pulled her down on a chair and sat next to her. "Daisy, before we leave, I have to tell you something." He would have never considered talking to his thirteen year old daughter about that day before she was even born but now he was forced to.

"Dad, you're scaring me. Your face is all scowly." Daisy was shifting in her chair.

"Don't be scared, darlin'." He tried to relax his features and took in a deep breath. When he dragged his hands over his cheeks, Daisy huffed.

"Are you gonna tell me or what? This isn't any fun."

"No, darlin'. It isn't," he sighed and finally gave in. "The newspaper wrote something about your mother and me that happened before you were born and I want you to hear it from me first before you read it or your friends tell you." There was curiosity in her expression but he knew her too well to not see the anxiety behind it.

"When I was a young police officer in Glasgow, we were in the process of arresting a drug dealer. He was a very dangerous man. From what we could tell, he had injured his wife so badly that she had died and he had caused harm to a lot of other people as well." He carefully observed how she took in the information. The curiosity was still there, but she was fidgeting with her skirt. He took one of her hands and rubbed her palm. A sad smile curled around his lips.

"Your mother and I were chasing him down – "

"Like in the movies?" she interrupted incredulously.

Hardy let out a small chuckle and squeezed her hand. "Aye, like in the movies. We ended up on a boat, the boat the guy lived on." He took in a deep breath and chewed on his lip for a moment. "He took your mother hostage, Daisy." He paused to let that sink in. Her face was blank but her fingers were digging into his hand. He moved a bit closer.

When he didn't continue she frowned. "And? What happened then?"

"Daisy, I shot the man." Her head snapped up and her eyes that were so much like his widened.

"You killed someone?" she whispered.

"Yes, darlin', I did," he admitted quietly. Her lips were quivering and tears welled up.

"Did you do it to save Mum's life?" Her voice broke. He stood and wrapped her in his arms again. He wished he could make this in any way easier, but there was no sugar coating the truth.

"Aye. And yours," he breathed into her hair. And before she could ask, he explained, "Your mother was pregnant at the time." She gasped and he hugged her more tightly. He still hadn't told her about the boy. He let her out of the embrace and held her at arm's length. His gaze rested on her, taking in her shocked expression. She was avoiding his eyes.

"Daisy, please look at me. There's one more thing to the story." Fear was written all over her face. It hurt him to see her like that and if Karen White had been present that very moment, God knew what he would have done to her.

"The man's little boy was there. He saw everything, Daisy. His father had told him that it was your mother and me who were responsible for the death of his mother. He saw me kill his father and when his father fell into the river, he went after him."

"Did he die as well?" she asked, voice toneless now. Her tears had stopped and her face had hardened.

"No. I followed him into the water and pulled him out." His voice was as toneless as hers. He felt weak and slumped down on the chair. His vision blurred with his own tears that he was desperately trying to hold back, not wanting to cry in front of her again. He sucked in a few breaths and barely managed to pull himself together.

Her hand came to rest on his back. "Dad, that's so awful. The poor boy. Do you know what happened to him?"

Hardy nodded. "He went into foster care and then someone adopted him. I lost track after that. They kept it confidential and I didn't want to dig. Thought I had done enough damage already."

"Oh, Dad. It wasn't your fault that his father acted like that. He might have killed Mum… and me," she added with a quiver in her voice. This time it was her who pulled him into a hug. They were silent for a bit until Daisy let go of him. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, just like she used to do when she was little, and smiled.

"So, are we going for breakfast now or what? I'm starving." He stared at her, perplexed by how quickly she seemed to have regained composure. "Don't look at me like that, Dad. Do you want me to be gloomy for the rest of the day, when we finally have a chance to spend time together? Not happening. So you better get your shit together." She nudged him in the side.

"Oi, language, young lady," he scolded her meekly.

She grinned and bounced into the hallway, getting her jacket and shoes. "Are you coming or what?" she hollered.

With a smile, he picked himself up. He considered himself lucky to have this wonderful child who was always able to brighten his days. He sneaked in his morning pills and ignored the fact that soon he'd have to have another difficult conversation with her.

* * *

Hardy took her to the little coffee shop with the back yard. It was one of her favorite places and they could walk there. The sun was shining, warming up his stiff body. The exertion from the prior day had left him worn out and achy. Moving around seemed like a good way to get rid of it. Daisy was walking at a fast pace and he was trailing behind. The realization that he struggled with keeping up hit him hard but he was able to hide his breathlessness. Or at least he thought so.

Daisy was a few steps ahead of him, when she turned around and grinned. "Either you're getting old or you're really out of shape. Look at you, grandpa. No more Hollywood style chasing down of bad guys if you're that winded just walking to the coffee shop."

"Oi, stop it. No respect for your father," he grumbled back at her. He couldn't think of a witty comeback, being too distracted by the fact that she was right. If his health didn't improve, his job security was more than questionable.

They reached the coffee shop. It was a small place, filled with the intoxicating smell of freshly ground beans and steamed milk. He closed his eyes for a moment, drinking in the scent and feeling pity for himself that he couldn't have any of it. Luckily for him and his caffeine deprived mind, they found a spot in the shady back yard. She had picked her favorite table under the vines and didn't waste any time grabbing the menu. He always got the same thing, so there wasn't any need for him to look. Or maybe he should. His usual choice of scrambled eggs with sausage and buttered toast didn't seem quite as heart healthy as it could be. He suppressed a sigh and reached for the menu. Daisy looked up, surprised, but didn't say anything. When she saw his frown growing bigger while he was studying such exciting choices as low fat yoghurt with fresh organic fruit and granola or some hideous concoction called tofu scramble with your choice of kale, spinach or other seasonal local vegetables, she chuckled.

"Dad, why are you even looking at that and torturing yourself? You always get the same stuff anyway," she remarked, still grinning from one ear to the other.

"Dunno. Thought I could try something different for a change. Maybe something more… healthy," he mumbled. His ears were burning. Why was he feeling so embarrassed about this?

"You, something healthy? I've never seen you eat anything different here other than scrambled eggs with some greasy meat and toast soaked in butter. Beats me how you don't ever seem to gain any weight," she teased.

Hardy rolled his eyes at her. "As you pointed out, darlin', I'm not getting younger, so maybe it's time to pay attention to what I put into this old and decrepit body." He just about managed to make it sound light hearted enough.

She gave him a look he couldn't quite place. When she continued her voice was much more somber. "I'm glad you're eating at all, Dad. You look awfully skinny these days and I don't like it."

Her mouth was pulled into a pout and she didn't look at him. It hurt to see her so worried about him. His stomach clenched up knowing that he had to tell her soon _how_ decrepit his body really was. It took away whatever appetite he had left, already being nauseated by his medications. When the waitress came he settled for the least offensive food, the yoghurt, and some herbal tea. The waitress had looked at him as if he had committed a sin for even considering decaf black tea.

When she was gone, Daisy burst out into laughter. "Wow, Dad, I think you insulted her British soul with your request for decaf tea. At least you didn't ask for decaf coffee. I think she would have passed out."

He glared at her, but in the end, his lips curled up to a smile. "You know, the stuff isn't so bad after all, you get used to it. Now, not drinking coffee…," he sighed. "That's a different story."

She gave him another one of those looks he couldn't read. It was making him nervous but there was no way he would tell her before he had spoken to her mother. He settled for changing the topic.

"So, how was school this week?"

"Dad, seriously? You really need to come up with a better question when you don't want to talk about something," she sighed and shook her head.

"'S not why I asked. I really do want to know, 'cause I care about what's going on with you." He did, even if she was right and this was his standard way of redirecting a conversation with her. He might have to come up with something new.

"Fine. It was pretty sucky as usual. At least Allison and her stupid fan club left me alone." She looked at his blank expression and sighed in exasperation. "Why am I even telling you these things, you don't even remember who Allison is."

Hardy tried to keep face. He had no recollection of the name, not surprisingly so. But he had an idea who the girl was. Sometimes being a detective came in handy after all. "I don't think you ever mentioned her. Is she the girl who didn't want to come to your party?" Judging from her scowl, he was right. "I'm sorry darlin' that she's bothering you. I could tell you to ignore her but I know that's not helpful." He took her hand and made sure to find her eyes.

"Look, I saw you with your friends at the party and I see you with them at school all the time. _They_ like you. And even if the girl that currently is perceived as popular has a gripe with you, you'll always have your friends to rely on. This girl Allison should not upset you, she should make you sad. Because the only way she can be happy is to talk down on other people and make them feel bad. There's a good chance that her friends are not true because sooner or later there will be a new popular girl and everyone will forget about Allison and so will her so-called friends. Your friends, however, put their money together to get you something that you really like. That's very thoughtful and means much more than the approval of someone who doesn't care about anyone but themselves."

Daisy's lips were pressed together and she was drawing circles on the table with her index finger.

"It's all right. You don't have to say anything, just think about it." He tucked a lock behind her ear and rubbed away a stray tear with his thumb. He squeezed the hand he was still holding and then let go, giving her some space.

The waitress brought their beverages and they both held onto to their cups in silence. When the food came, Daisy finally spoke.

"Thanks, Dad." She shot him a quick glance and then dug into her French toast. He hid a smile and was happy that it seemed he could still be a part of her life.

He eyed the yoghurt, poked at the granola with his spoon and opted for fishing out the blueberries first.

"Ach, Dad. You're worse than a toddler. Do you want me to arrange the fruit in a smiley face pattern? Maybe then you'll eat it." The mischievous grin was back.

"No respect," he muttered under his breath and reluctantly ate some of his food that wasn't blue. It was as awful as he had feared.

"Here, take the maple syrup. I know you've got a sweet tooth. It's going to make it much better." She pushed her little jar with the brown gooey liquid over to his side.

"Maple syrup? Seriously?" He didn't quite believe her. When he tried it, he didn't let on that indeed it was tastier.

"Told you so." His gaze snapped up. She was grinning from one ear to the other and he blushed, feeling utterly outsmarted by his thirteen year old daughter.

They ate in amicable silence. Hardy was finally relaxing and some of the weight of the past week slipped away. His heart had been behaving the whole morning and he was grateful for that. He felt hopeful for the first time in days that he might be able to get a handle on his health.

"So, Cory said that _'The Avengers'_ was real fun. It just came out this week. Maybe we could go see it this weekend as you said you don't have to work?" she asked, not hiding the excitement.

"Does it have Thor in it?" The question had slipped his tongue before he could think about it. His attempt at an innocent expression didn't fool Daisy.

"Ach, Dad. I really don't get why you're so into that character."

"I'm not _'into'_ Thor, I –"

"Oh, come on. You made me watch that stupid movie _three_ times while pointing out how it really wasn't that bad and in fact rather _'entertaining'_. You even made a comment about Loki's coat of all things." She was egging him on and he knew it.

"I did no such thing. It was a reflection on the overall production design." His excuse was pathetic and she rewarded him with rolling her eyes at him. A thought caught on. "Wait, is Loki in it too?" He cringed at how excited he sounded. She threw her napkin at him.

"You're unbelievable. And yes, he is." They both laughed. And for a moment he forgot all the heartache and was simply happy.

* * *

On their walk home Daisy tucked her arm under his, seeking closeness like she hadn't in a while. Hardy smiled and the warmth he felt wasn't only from the beautiful sunshine. He had missed these moments with her. Guilt was creeping in and threatened to cloud his feelings but he managed to ignore it.

"You never listened to the band," Daisy complained.

"What band?" He didn't quite follow her.

"The band I have tickets to see." She pulled her arm away and turned around, skipping backwards. "You said you would listen, but then we almost had that accident and you never did."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll check it out. When we get home."

"I could take Cory with me," she suggested with a certain challenge in her voice.

"What?" His voice pitch shifted and he sternly shook his head. "No, absolutely not."

"Why not, Dad? He's going to be sixteen by then and he'll be able to drive us there," she argued.

His mouth gaped open. Surely there must be something he was missing here? Since when was Daisy that close to his best friend Duncan's oldest son? They spent time at the wedding together but they hadn't seen each other since then. Or had they? All of a sudden a hot knot clenched up his stomach. The two teenagers had gone for a walk all alone, at night. On the castle grounds. Which was a rather romantic setting, come to think of it. And Daisy was a beautiful girl. And Hardy wasn't that old yet that he had forgotten how it was to be a teenaged boy.

He stopped dead in his tracks. _Bollocks_ , he should have known. The hot knot in his stomach erupted and a wave of jealousy washed over him, leaving his face burning and his paternal instincts running rampant.

"Daisy, is there something you would like to tell me? About Cory maybe?" His voice was low and neutral, just like it would have been in the interrogation room. He hated himself for that but he also couldn't help himself. Her face turned bright red. Somewhere inside him, he was proud of her that she held his piercing gaze without even blinking.

"We're friends," she stated hesitantly.

"And?"

 _Please don't let there be an 'and'_ , he prayed to any random deity that would listen to him. Although, if she did have a boyfriend – Hardy's feeble heart skipped a few random beats and he mentally choked on the word – then Cory wouldn't be the worst. Possibly. _Bollocks._

"Ach, Dad. Nothing 'and'. We're just friends," she said, but not without pulling her mouth into a pout.

Before he could hold back, he blurted out, "Would you want it to be more than just friends?"

They both stared at each other. Then after what seemed an eternity, she nodded once. He sucked in some air through his nose and ran his fingers through his hair. He had no idea what to do with this confession and he had never felt as awkward around her. If only her mother was here right now, she would know what to do.

"So… you like him then?" Again she nodded once. He swore he wanted to be supportive but his paternal overprotectiveness got the better of him and his next question came out all wrong. "Did you guys… do things at the wedding?" It sounded dumb even to him.

"God, Dad, you're a bloody idiot. Do you really interrogate people for a living?" she spat at him, spun around on her heels and stormed off.

"Daisy, wait!" he called after her. His long strides let him catch up quickly and at least this time his heart didn't betray him. He caught her arm and gently turned her to face him. "'M sorry, darlin'. That was a rather stupid question. It's just…," he trailed off. How could he explain to her how painful and wonderful at the same time it was to see her grow up?

"You're not jealous, are you?" she asked and when she saw his scrunched up face, she sniggered. "You are!"

"No, I'm not," he mumbled, intently studying the sidewalk patterns left by old chewing gum. They were rather intriguing, and anything beat looking her in the eye right then. She laughed out loud and threw her arms around his neck. Her head came to rest against his chest and he folded her arms around her.

"Silly Dad. No guy will ever take your spot in my heart," she muffled into his shirt. "Although, Cory is a bit of a competition."

"Oi, I should –"

A quick succession of camera flashes made Hardy jerk up his head. As soon as he spotted the group of journalists lingering at the cross roads that would take them to their house, he pushed Daisy behind his back. They were closing in on their prey.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Daisy was trying to wiggle herself out of his tight grasp. "Ouch, you're hurting me." He didn't let go. There was no way these paparazzi would get a picture of his daughter.

"Daisy, please listen and don't talk," he ordered her, very calmly, keeping his voice low so that they wouldn't hear him. "I want you to go back where we came from and go to your friend Molly's house."

More flashes lit up in front of them. Hardy carefully placed himself between the cameras and Daisy.

"DI Hardy… DI Hardy…," several of them shouted while they were running down the street. They didn't have much time to escape.

He turned around and faced Daisy who stared at him with wide eyes. "Do you have your phone?" She nodded, keeping quiet as he instructed her. "When you get to Molly's house, call your mother and tell her what happened. Have her pick you up, she's at work."

"But, Dad, what about you?" Her voice was trembling.

He kissed her hair quickly. "Don't worry about me, I'll deal with them." He took off his coat and wrapped it around her hair and shoulders. Then he turned her around. "Run!" He nudged her gently and she broke into a fast jog, hiding herself under his coat. He spun around to face the vultures.

* * *

 **A/N:** Much to my delight I discovered that "The Avengers" actually did open that particular week in April of 2012 in the UK. And I plead very much guilty that Alec Hardy fangirling over Thor might be a wee bit OOC (he might have been influenced by this author's guilty pleasures), but then my version of Alec does like 80's action movies. So being a Marvel fan doesn't seem too farfetched. I hope for forgiveness for this artistic license. I promise to make up for it with some more hole poking in Alec's soul soon [it appears I have a reputation to uphold ;-)]


	20. CHAPTER 19

**A/N:** Thanks again everyone for reading and commenting. Alec's "restful" weekend continues… I hope that Alec and Tess make sense even if they don't make sense, if you know what I mean. Thank you hazelmist – for everything!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 19**

Hardy eyed the gang of reporters. His gaze darted back and forth between them and the promising safety of his house. It was too far for him to make a run for it, not in his current condition. Or maybe he could make it?

"DI Hardy, was that your daughter, the child your wife carried when you shot Gregory Carter?" one of the journalists shouted at him, sticking a recording device under his nose. More lights flashed and they blinded him momentarily. He pressed his lips together and tried to side step the closest reporter. Which only led to him bumping into another one.

"DI Hardy, does the fact that you shot Carter in front of his eight year old boy in any way influence the current investigation?" This time it was a mobile phone hovering in front of his nose which was recording his silence. He swatted it out of his view.

"DI Hardy, is there any truth to the rumor that you yourself pulled out Pippa Gillespie from her grave in the river?"

It cost him his two decades of experience as a police officer to keep a straight face and to not flinch. He moved again, shoving his way through the circle of journalists that had crowded around him. His heart was speeding up and he realized that his pills were in the coat that he had given to Daisy. Not that he could have taken any of them right now anyway. The flashing lights blended in with the vertigo caused by lightheadedness and it all threatened to overcome him. Ironically, the bodies encroaching on him prevented him from toppling over when his legs gave out. None of them realized what was going on, when he disguised his fall as an attempt to break through the tight ring they had formed around him. He slumped against one of them who shrieked in anger and yelled something about police brutality. Then the reporter moved to the side and he broke free of them.

He didn't want to run because he knew he shouldn't really, but walking at a fast pace wasn't cutting it. They were right behind him, raining down their questions on him, flashes indicating the frantic picture taking. His house was about 300 yards away. He felt for the key in his pocket and balled his hand around the sharp edges of the metal. It helped to focus and ignore the spinning world around him. He forced himself to move faster and eventually he was running, the urge to escape the onslaught winning over any rational thought.

He made it almost to the driveway. A sharp pain took his breath away and he fell to his knees just about thirty feet away. Somewhere in his foggy mind he hoped it had looked like as if he had tripped over something. He sucked in a few shuddering breaths and clambered to his feet. His hands were turning numb and the fluttering in his chest occupied his whole soul. He had to make it to the safety of his home. Somehow the key found its way into the lock. He stumbled inside, slammed the door shut, and sank to the floor, clutching his torso.

He couldn't stay in the hallway though. What if Tess brought Daisy home and found him there? He rolled over onto all fours and crawled towards the stairs. He needed his medication. The pain was excruciating but he hadn't passed out yet, so maybe he'd be able to manage. One step at a time he pulled himself up to the bedroom. By the time he got there he was drenched in sweat and sobbing with the agony. After what seemed a never ending struggle he came to rest next to his night stand. He pulled out the drawer and fished out the pills. The blister packs presented their own challenge, not wanting to cooperate with his shaking hands. Eventually he succeeded and gagged all of them down. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the frame of the bed. He had no energy left to climb up and so he stayed where he was.

The last image on his mind before he passed out was that of the sneering faces of the reporter crowd that was surely besieging his house.

* * *

"Alec?" A voice filtered through.

" _Alec_!" Someone was shaking his shoulder.

He forced his eyes open and was greeted by Tess' worried face. At least he hoped it was worried because he couldn't focus, his vision still blurry in a spinning world. Tess was talking to him and he had no idea what she said. He closed his eyes again, shaking his head slowly trying to get his bearing.

"Alec, what's going on?" she asked, voice strained with concern. Her hand still rested on his shoulder and he welcomed her touch.

His answer was swallowed by a cough and a groan. He tried to pick up his exhausted body but failed until she pulled him up into a sitting position, yet again leaning against the bedframe. His head fell back on the mattress and he let his eyes drift shut again.

"Is Daisy okay?" he breathed.

"Yes, she is. I left her at Molly's house. Glad I did because these damned reporters are still camping out in front of the house."

"Thanks. 'M sorry…" he couldn't finish because another wave of burning pain behind his sternum took his breath away. He moaned and clutched his chest.

"Alec, I'm calling 999. I think you might be having a heart attack or something." She stood and all he was able to do was catch her leg. She stopped and frowned down at him.

"What are you doing? I've got to get my phone."

"Please, don't. It's not a heart attack." He made an effort to get to his feet, only to plop down heavily onto the bed. His arms braced his body and he tried to reign in his labored breathing.

"I don't care, Alec," she yelled at him. The stress in her voice was obvious and he felt guilty. "I don't know what the hell is going on with you but considering that a few weeks ago your heart stopped, I'm not taking any chances." She turned to leave.

Hardy tried to think fast. Which in his current condition wasn't going to win him any medals. He had to tell her, so much was clear, but he could still control the flow of information.

"I ran from the reporters, shouldn't have done that." She stopped, question on her face, and he knew he had bought himself some time.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"No unnecessary exertion. Doctor's orders. Same thing like not drinking any caffeinated beverages."

"Do you think I'm a fucking moron, Alec? Not drinking coffee because you had a severe panic attack and being instructed to refrain from unnecessary exertion doesn't seem to be on the same page to me. And don't you think I haven't noticed that you've been popping those anxiety pills or whatever they are like they're candy." She was yelling at him again.

He gave up. After today's events he didn't have it in him any longer to hide. Baxter already knew and he needed her help with the procedure next week, it was time to come clean. He opened his mouth to tell her everything when she continued.

"I'm sick and tired of you acting like such a selfish arse all the time. You scare the shit out of Daisy with your erratic behavior because you can't keep work and home separated. I know you pulled the girl out of the water and that was rather traumatic, but seriously? Can't you pull yourself together just a tiny bit? If you have a mental health problem then take care of it."

Hardy's stomach clenched. He suddenly felt nauseated. It took him a few heart beats to even process what she had said. How could she be so harsh?

" _Mental_ _health problem_?" he echoed, still trying to wrap his mind around her words. Anger started to boil up inside. It dumbfounded him how she could not see that there was something seriously wrong with him. She had found him passed out in their bedroom and was ready to call 999 and now that? Granted, he had gone through great lengths to hide the truth from her but she was a bloody detective. One would think she'd draw some conclusions from the things she had noticed.

"Don't play daft, Alec," she sighed, patience wearing thin.

"I can't imagine you would have called 999 for your looney husband. I don't have a _mental_ health problem, Tess," he growled.

She snorted and then noted his choice of words. "What are you saying, Alec?"

To his consolation there was at least some worry in her voice. His anger dissipated. After all he couldn't blame her for his secretive behavior. He beckoned her to sit on the bed next to him. She didn't move until he started talking.

"I… I haven't been doing well since I was discharged from the hospital." He preempted her interruption by holding up his hand and shaking his head. "Please, just hear me out, love. Remember when I told you in the hospital I was prone to passing out when I get very emotional?" She nodded and sat down at the edge of the bed.

"There's a bit more to the story." He hoped his stupid heart would let him finish telling her the truth as his chest was feeling tight again. His gaze darted away from Tess to his drawer with the pills. He might as well make that part of his confession. He reached over and fished out what he needed.

He sucked in a deep breath and then let it out. "These aren't pills to calm me down if I get too anxious, Tess. These are pills to keep my heart beating properly when I get too emotional. Or overexert myself like I did today." He popped two out and swallowed them right in front of her. Her eyes widened and she pressed her lips together. Her hand clenched the sheet until her knuckles turned white.

"You told me your heart was fine. This sounds anything but fine. You fucking lied to me," she spat at him. He couldn't even deny it and his guilt was growing.

"You're right, I didn't tell you the full truth back then," he admitted.

"Why did you not tell me?" Her voice was almost not audible but still razor sharp.

"I wanted to. But I had just found out myself and was trying to wrap my brain around it. And Daisy was so sick, I –"

"That's not good enough, Alec," Tess interjected. "Don't use her as an excuse. You had plenty of time since then."

Hardy was getting desperate. He hadn't had one minute to seriously explain what was really wrong with him. Tess was all hung up on the fact he'd lied as he feared she'd be.

"Did I really, Tess? Because all we've done for the past weeks is argue. I was going to tell you the day after the wedding. Remember, I told you I'd have to make changes in my life."

She snorted. "Maybe if you'd had any interest in letting me in and if you were more engaged in this family then you'd have found the time."

That hurt. Hardy flinched and pressed his fist against his chest. "Tess, I swear I was going to tell you everything, but then we got the shout about the two girls. And after that there never seemed to be a good time. We were fighting and I got so wrapped up with the case…" he trailed off. His gaze found hers and to his surprise there was understanding looking back at him. But then her eyes darkened again and the scowl was back.

"Have you told Daisy?" she asked.

Hardy shook his head. "No." He hesitated. "I think she's worried though. She caught me a couple of times not feeling well." He chose not to tell Tess about the near accident. Not yet at least. He would have to tell her though why he had abandoned his car.

"I can't believe that you would lie to her. Me – I get it, but her?" Tess was livid.

"I haven't lied to Daisy, just haven't told her yet."

"Don't be stupid, Alec. Not telling is equally as bad as outright lying."

She had a point and he acknowledged it. He slumped back on the head board, his heart still beating very irregularly. It was making it hard to focus on the conversation when all that your body was trying to focus on was breathing and staying awake. He must have drifted off again when a burning pain on his face jerked him awake.

He rubbed his cheek and looked at her incredulously. "Did you just slap me?" His voice broke with the shift in pitch.

"You were out and shaking your shoulder didn't help," she excused her actions. His mouth gaped open while he stared at her in confusion. That didn't sound right to him and it certainly had hurt in more than one way.

"Are you taking care of this or are you being your usual idiotic self and ignoring it?"

"Tess, do you really think I can ignore this?" he scoffed.

"How would I know? It's not like you shared your little problem with me." And before he could say anything, she continued, "Have you even thought about what it would mean to Daisy if you got seriously ill because you don't take care of yourself? How dare you be so selfish?"

Hardy didn't know what to say. He was angry and wounded at the same time and tears were welling up. He barely could breathe when he barked back at her.

"Are you seriously accusing me of being selfish because I'm ill? What does it take for you to realize that I'm not doing this to spite you, Tess? I've been struggling to keep it together, I go to the doctor, I take my medications, try to eat healthy and follow instructions. What else do you want from me? I have no master plan to neglect myself deliberately in order to accomplish - I don't even know what."

He had leaned forward during his rant, trying to catch his breath but failed and was gasping for air now. "Please, Tess…" – he was desperate – "Can you just give me a break…" – another gasp – "I don't think I can take much more." He collapsed back onto the pillow, eyes closed, his mind focused on the basic functions of his body – breathing and keeping his heart in check.

And finally, she relented.

Her fingers brushed his hair out of his face and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. She helped him getting more comfortable and propped his head on a pillow.

"Is there anything you need? Some more of those pills?" Her tone was softer now. He slowly shook his head, blinking against the blurry vision. He was so exhausted, his eyelids drooping. He shivered and Tess tucked a blanket around him.

"Get some rest, Alec." And with the feeling of her lips brushing over his forehead he fell asleep.

* * *

A gentle tug on his shoulder woke him up. He opened his eyes to find Tess sitting next to him on the bed.

"Hiya, how're you feeling?"

He sniffed in some air and pulled himself up to sit. "Better." It was dark outside. "What time is it?"

"After seven. You slept all afternoon."

"What happened with -"

"They're finally all gone," Tess preempted his question.

"Is Daisy home?" He was hopeful, craving the closeness of his family. Tess shook her head and he pressed his lips together.

"I let her stay at Molly's, just in case. She can't be dragged into this. It's bad enough as it is already."

In principal he agreed but he would have liked to see Daisy after he sent her off running from the journalist.

"I could call her?" he asked with a surprising amount of insecurity.

"Molly's parents were going to take them to the movies, so I'm not sure if she would pick up the phone," Tess explained not without sympathy.

"Oh. All right then. Maybe later?" He sounded pathetic.

"Sure, if you're still up."

He rolled his eyes at her. "I'm not an invalid who sleeps all day, Tess."

She tilted her head and gave him a wry smile, patting his arm. Then she bent down and picked something up from the floor. It was a tray with food.

"I made you supper, that's why I came to wake you. Thought you shouldn't sleep through the whole night without eating something."

He looked at her in surprise. "I could have come downstairs."

"Yup, but maybe you should take it easy for once." She placed the tray in his lap and brushed her fingers through his bangs. His lips curled up in a happy smile as he eyed the food and his wife. Then he faltered, remembering all the medications he needed to take.

Tess frowned. "What is it, Alec? You don't like what I made?" She sounded hurt.

"No, love. No that's not it," he hurried to defuse her concerns. He took her hand and said shyly, "I need to take some pills before I can eat."

Her eyes widened. "Bloody hell, Alec. Are you going to explain to me what the heck is going on with you?" The interrogation room tone had found its way into her voice and Hardy for the first time since he knew her felt intimidated by his wife of almost fifteen years.

He dropped his gaze, staring at the pasta, studying every piece and the way the sauce was dripping off the curvy spirals. He took in a deep breath and let it out, sighing. How did one tell their spouse that they had a life-threatening heart disease that could kill them suddenly and without much warning? Maybe he could start with what he was doing about it? Would that make it easier? He didn't know. He still didn't look at her when the words finally came out hesitantly.

"The doctors put me on a lot of medication to make sure something like what happened in the hospital won't happen again. I also have a laundry list of stuff that I'm supposed to do and not do, like no caffeine, no unnecessary exertion, eat healthy foods." He paused, throwing a quick glance at her. "I'm also not supposed to drive."

"What? Why?" Incredulity and worry made her voice sharp and Hardy felt uncomfortable in his skin. Maybe this whole confession wasn't a good idea after all. She was so easily irritated these days, maybe he should have waited until he had all the answers to the puzzle. Not that he didn't know what the doctor's recommendations were. He hadn't even gone anywhere near the topic of the need for the pacemaker. In fact he still hadn't told her what was actually wrong with his heart.

"Alec, pay attention. I asked you a question." She hit him on the arm and he jerked out of his train of thought.

"Ouch, why do you always do that? It hurts you know," he complained, holding the spot.

"Ach, don't distract," she dismissed him. "Why are you not supposed to drive?"

"'Cause they're afraid I might pass out while I'm behind the wheel," he admitted, feeling like a criminal.

Her eyes narrowed and her cheeks turned red. A sure sign she was angry at him. "And you've been taking Daisy to school all this time. What the fuck do you think you're doing, what if something had happened?"

He could feel the color leaving his face. He quickly reached for the tea mug to hide his trembling fingers but she had already noticed. She blew up.

"For fuck's sake. It already has, hasn't it? That's why you came home without your car last night."

He didn't have to answer, it was written all over his face. She jumped up and started pacing in the room.

"If you hurt her because of your inability to take care of yourself, I'm going to make your life hell, Alec," she growled and he knew that every word was true.

"Nobody got hurt. It was just a scare. I don't think she even realized what happened," he said. His eyes were downcast, reflecting his shame.

"I'm glad you take it this lightly, because I don't," she snapped.

"I'm not, Tess," he barked back, losing his patience. "I was fucking horrified about what could have happened. Do you really think I would deliberately put her into harm's way?"

"You did, Alec. Ignoring the doctor's recommendations makes it rather deliberate to me," she stated coldly.

He stared at her. There was no argument to come back from that. She was right. The realization was sinking in and it crushed him. He put the tray to the side and leaned back, eyes closed, breathing heavy.

"I can't believe you're such a bloody idiot about this," she huffed. Then she suddenly stopped her restless walking back and forth. "Should you even be at work?"

His eyes snapped open. He didn't know what part he had dreaded more – discussing work or having to tell her that he could die any moment until he got the pacemaker. Which they still hadn't talked about.

"They didn't say I can't work," he stated carefully. Technically, it wasn't a lie. He hated himself.

Tess' face scrunched up in disbelief. "Seriously? You're not supposed to drive, not exert yourself, and take all kinds of medications but you're okay to lead a murder investigation that is one of the most profiled cases that this town has ever had? You expect me to swallow that crap?"

"Love, please. I need to finish the case and then I'll take some time off to get things taken care of," he pleaded.

"Horseshit, Alec. I can see how exhausted you've been and then all those nightmares and bizarre behavior. You're not up for the job right now, I hate to tell you this. I'm not going to stand here and watch this any longer." She pulled out her phone and started dialing a number.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm calling Baxter," she replied curtly.

"He already knows, Tess," Hardy stated quietly. More so than she did as a matter of fact.

"What? How come he knows and I don't?" The anger was back.

"'Cause he caught me not feeling well a couple of days ago," he sighed. The conversation was exhausting him and he wished he could just share without being sidetracked by all the hurt feelings. On both sides. It hadn't slipped his attention that when she heard about the car, she had never asked if he got hurt.

She put the phone away, a puzzled look creeping onto her face. "And he let you keep working? That's so not like him. What lies did you tell him, Alec? Or do you only exclude me and not your best buddie?" Her sarcasm stung.

He scrubbed down his face with his fingers. "Tess, please. I'm not excluding you. What I am doing though is having a really hard time. This case is getting to me. Badly." He paused and swallowed. His hands were kneading the blanket. "I dream about Pippa every night. I drown in that damned river and then when I pull her out her face turns into Daisy's and it's so _horrifying_." His voice broke.

Tess perched herself at the edge of the bed. He had her attention now, her pensive blue eyes holding his gaze.

"Who would do something like that? Kill a child, a girl like Daisy, and then dump her to rot in the water? What if I'd never found her? Can you imagine what the parents would go through? I talked to them yesterday, they are broken, Tess. And we haven't even found Lisa...," he trailed off, tears choking his throat.

Tess uncurled his cramped fingers from the blanket and rubbed her thumb over his palms. It soothed him enough to be able to go on.

"I promised them to find whoever did this to their child. I promised Daisy. I _have to_ finish this case. I need to know that we got them and that it won't happen again. I couldn't live with myself if this was the one case I failed." He stopped, breathless and emotionally exhausted from this confession of his anguish that was weighing him down just as much as his secret heart condition.

Tess was quiet, still holding his hand. She was staring out into the dark, lost in her own thoughts. Eventually, she came back from wherever she had been.

"Can you promise me that you will take care of yourself? That you won't do any more reckless shit like endangering yourself or others?" she asked, voice hollow and strained.

"I won't. And I promise I'll deal with it." He was sincere. "As soon as we've arrested someone. We put in for a warrant for Ashworth. Claire Ripley indicated she wasn't with him that night and -"

"She changed her statement?" Tess was surprised.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not quite. Not officially. She's been playing games with me, but I'm sure I can convince her to amend what she said."

"You're gonna get her to testify against her husband?" Doubt was lacing Tess' words.

He shrugged. "It's our only way to get anywhere with this. We've got no hard evidence, only circumstantial things and without cracking his alibi we have no chance of a conviction."

Tess nodded in agreement. "Just make sure you're not getting dragged into something that you'll regret later on. She's been playing the woman in distress card with you and that's your Achilles' heel." She leaned over, tenderly brushing her fingers over his cheek.

"You saved Daisy's and my life all those years ago, you put yourself in danger and went against all your beliefs about taking someone's life. You're a good man, Alec, and I don't want you to hurt yourself because someone's taking advantage of that. Please be careful." Her blue eyes were warm and Hardy was losing himself in them like he had so many times before. He took her hand that was still cupping his face and kissed her palm.

"I love you, Tess," he breathed, eyes tearing up.

There was a brief flicker of sadness which was swept away by her smile. "You're a sop, Alec Hardy. Don't let your daughter see you like that."

They both grinned and Tess reached over to put the tray in his lap. He held her back and bent over to his nightstand drawer.

"Gotta take those first, love." He tried to remember which ones he was supposed to have with supper and was successful enough. Tess eyed the small pile of pills in his hand.

"Alec, what's wrong with your heart?" Her voice trembled and tears welled up in her big blue eyes.

"We're still figuring it out." This was as close as he had gotten to telling her about the upcoming procedure and the need for the pacemaker. He took in a deep breath and his gaze lingered on her watery eyes. His stomach clenched up and his courage fell.

"Everything will be fine, love. Don't worry so much. My heart's going to be okay. I've got a good doctor who's taking care of me and will fix things." It was a lie but he couldn't tell her, he couldn't make her cry. He wiped away her tears with his thumb and smiled, hoping it reached his eyes.

She tilted her head and looked at him for a long time. Then she stood and kissed the top of his head.

"Eat your food before it gets all cold. I'll be back in a bit."

His gaze lingered on her when she walked away. Guilt over not telling her the truth was building up inside but he couldn't bring himself to reveal how ill he really was. He ate a few bites of the pasta before the nausea took over and his appetite was gone. He put the tray aside, falling back on his pillow. The strain of this day was catching up with him and all his body wanted to do was sleep. Tomorrow was another day and maybe he'd finally find the strength to tell his wife and daughter what was really ailing him.


	21. CHAPTER 20

**A/N:** Thank you as always for reading. It's a rainy Sunday for Alec and his family… I am eternally grateful to hazelmist for not only editing but also for encouraging me to keep things as they are.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 20**

Grey light filtered through the drawn curtains. Rain was tapping softly against the window, lulling Hardy back to sleep. He rolled over and pulled the blanket tighter around him, keeping out the cold. His eyelids were heavy and he had no intention of facing the day. The overnight dreams were remote and for once he didn't wake sputtering and choking. His heart was beating steady in his chest, and although his body was sore, he felt more rested than he had in a while.

Noises from downstairs drew him in and he eventually opened his eyes, listening to what carried into the bedroom. There was a squeal and then laughter from Daisy. Tess shouted something he couldn't quite make out, but it was happy. A few loud clangs were followed by more laughter and then suddenly music blared through the house. More shouting from Tess silenced the song quickly.

His lips curled up into a broad smile. Whatever his two girls were doing, they sure were having a lot of fun. He idly wondered if him joining in would spoil it. A quick glance at his phone confirmed that it was late in the morning, almost noon. No wonder he felt rested, he had slept more than twelve hours. He stretched under the covers, stifling a lazy yawn. He ran his fingers through his fringe, ruffling his thick mop of hair. Daisy always made fun of his bed head when she caught him early in the mornings. He sat up slowly, swinging his long legs onto the ground.

He gathered his medications and padded into the bathroom. He refused to even acknowledge the mirror knowing what would look back at him. He didn't want to see it, not today, not while the happy noises of his family were warming his soul. Much to his dismay he never had made it out of his clothes the day before. He peeled them off and couldn't help but notice how loosely his slacks were hanging on his hips. When he couldn't justify soaking under the hot water any longer, he reluctantly turned off the shower and stepped into the chilly air.

He found his sweat pants and most comfortable shirt, feeling the need to be as far away as possible from work and all the related heartache as he could. The music was playing louder now that they must have realized he wasn't asleep any more. When he walked down the stairs, he heard Daisy singing along. And he also noted the scent of cake baking in the oven wafting through the house. That explained some of the banging. A grin lit up his face. He might have a reputation of setting fire to the kitchen while making breakfast but Tess and Daisy's baking adventures were even more infamous. He prepared himself for the chaos that would await him and he wasn't wrong.

The kitchen was a disaster zone. Several cook books were opened up and piled upon each other. The table was cluttered with bowls, utensils and ingredients. Flour was not only dusting the wooden surface, but was sprinkled all over the counters and a substantial amount had found its way onto the floor. The cocoa mixed with it, forming picturesque swirls of light and dark. There were foot prints trailing through the kitchen and into the dining area. Hardy squinted at them, guessing who's they were. The sink was packed with dishes. Someone had left the water running to soak a pot and it was almost overflowing. Hardy sighed and quickly stepped up to turn off the faucet. Where was everybody? The flour stuck to his bare feet and he rubbed his soles against the bottom of his sweat pants leaving white stains. The oven was lit up and he bent down to see what they had come up with this time. The smell was tantalizing and his mouth watered.

"No peeking, Dad!" Daisy yelled from the door way and jolted his heart into a frenzy of stuttering beats. He straightened up and steadied himself against the counter. The moment passed as quickly as it had come and he was grateful for that. He looked up and all he could do was chuckle over Daisy's ludicrous appearance. Her face was smudged with frosting – he strongly suspected she had sneaked a few more spoonful of 'tastings' than needed – and her hair was matted with batter and flour. There were long stains running down her apron, undoubtedly where she had wiped her fingers while battling the elements in this ultimate cake fight. Tess popped up behind her and didn't look much better. She didn't sport the frosted face but her hair was almost as messy as Daisy's. Her shirt was stained with food coloring. How they could be this unruly when baking beat his ability to comprehend but he never complained as the results were too delicious to be disgruntled over.

Tess walked up to him, placing her hand on his arm. "Did we wake you up?"

He shook his head.

"Daisy, why don't you go and get cleaned up a bit before we eat lunch?" Tess encouraged her daughter. Daisy quickly pecked a kiss on Hardy's cheek, leaving a trace of frosting in Hardy's stubble and trudged off obediently.

"How are you feeling? Everything all right?" Tess asked hesitantly. Her hand came up and wiped away the smudge.

"'M fine, love. Thanks for letting me sleep in." He felt awkward knowing that he was still holding back about the true nature of his illness. He forced a smile that he wasn't quite feeling. Then he tilted his head towards the oven.

"What's that all about?" he asked and tried to steal another glance at the inside. Tess whacked him lightly on the shoulder.

"Oi, Daisy said no peeking. Wait until it's done. Also, no sweets before growing food, remember?" She wagged her finger in his face.

Hardy let out a mock groan. "No fair, torture is illegal in this country." Their eyes found each other and this time the smiles were true.

"Are you hungry? Lunch is ready. I made ratatouille and there is salad. Daisy was doing the side dishes so I take no responsibility."

Hardy stepped up and placed his hands on her waist. She wiggled out of his touch before he could succeed in kissing her.

"Alec, not now. I have to finish the food." There was a slightly annoyed undertone that Hardy wished he could have ignored.

Disappointed he grumbled, "I just wanted to say thanks."

"You don't have to. You can use a little bit of spoiling," she stated rather drily. "Go sit down. Everything should be ready. Do you want some wine?" Tess was pouring a glass for herself.

Hardy shuffled his feet. "Erm… I'm not supposed to," he said insecurely, drawing a circle in the flour dust on the kitchen table.

"Oh." There was an awkward silence and neither one looked at the other.

"Right. I'll go sit down then," Hardy finally said.

He was almost out the door, when Tess stopped him with a hand on his back.

"Alec, you would tell me if this is serious, wouldn't you?" There was a quiver in her voice, just enough to make his heart fall. He couldn't bring himself to burden her with the truth. It was dumb and immature, but he had no will power to shatter her world. Not with her standing there, hair tangled and sticky with cake batter, eyes so wide with fear that all the resolve he had to tell her was lost somewhere in that deep blue ocean of her soul. So, he turned around and lied straight to her face.

"I would. Please do not worry so much. I'm fine." He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and smiled. Her hand came up to his hand and held it against her cheek. Then she let go and nudged him into the dining room. He slowly walked to his chair and sat down. It took him a great effort to keep the guilt from showing on his expression. By the time Daisy and Tess joined him at the table, none of them would have ever known what he was hiding from them.

* * *

"Can I have dessert now?" Hardy whined like a four year old after obediently finishing his _'growing food'_.

"Dad, you're incorrigible. Just wait until it's time for tea and then we can have the cake." Daisy grinned at her mother who shrugged her shoulders.

"Oi, no fair, I've kept my end of the bargain and even ate the salad. I want cake now," Hardy demanded, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest. His forehead was wrinkled up in a frown.

It was a game they played. When Daisy was a small child she would throw tantrums if she didn't get her promised dessert. At some point Hardy started imitating her words and gestures as a distraction. At first Daisy was utterly dumbfounded having her actions monkeyed back at her. Then she got mad at her father which only encouraged him to tease her even more. Then she got smart and tried to strike deals. It soon became clear that she was a tough negotiator and more often than not her parents lost. Hardy had once made the mistake of applying the same rules to the grown-ups and ever since then he wasn't allowed to eat dessert if he hadn't demonstrated appropriate intake of _'growing foods'_ himself. Which was a hard pill to swallow for Hardy as Daisy's sweet tooth didn't come out of nowhere, her father had passed it on.

"Mom, say something," Daisy cried for back up.

"Love, please," Hardy begged.

Tess chuckled and shook her head. "Oh no, I'm not getting involved. The two of you have been at this silly game for years and I'm staying out of it." She stood up and gave them a mischievous smile. "And as I'm not part of it, I can have my cake whenever I want."

She ducked when father and daughter threw their napkins at her and hurried into the kitchen, in hot pursuit by Daisy who was yelling at her that the cake was for later. Hardy took it slower but he stalked after them, trying to catch a glimpse at the fabled baked good. Daisy slammed the door in his face before he succeeded.

 _Right._ Apparently it was a matter of national security that he would not see the cake until tea time. He sighed and retreated to the sofa. A dark spot on the rug caught his wandering gaze. His blood. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the spot on his forehead where he had hit the coffee table last weekend. He had a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that it had only been a week since then. It seemed longer than that. So much had changed and the two most important people in his life still didn't know about it. Tess and Daisy's conversation filtered through the closed kitchen door and he listened to it without trying to understand the words. Leaning back on the sofa he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off again to the sound of laughter and life.

* * *

His mobile's tinny ring tone woke him with a startle, provoking another uncomfortable bout of fluttering in his chest. Without looking he picked up, too distracted by keeping his heart in check.

"What?" he growled at whoever was to blame for the interruption of his nap.

"It never ceases to amaze me how one single person can be so grumpy when answering a phone," a Scottish voice boomed into the speaker.

Hardy rolled his eyes. "You woke me up."

"Why're you sleeping in the middle of the day? Are you an old man now?" Duncan teased.

"Ach, shut up," Hardy snapped back and sat up, running his fingers through his hair.

"Or is your crummy heart bothering you?" Duncan asked, all humor gone from his voice.

"I'm fine, Duncan," Hardy replied. Not surprisingly, he didn't get away with it.

"I don't think you are. I saw you on the local news. You looked like shit, if I may say so. You weren't in great shape at the wedding but I'd say things must be worse now. I also read what this despicable woman wrote about you and the Carter case. What the hell is going on?"

Hardy was silent. Last he had talked to Duncan was two weeks ago at his friend's wedding. He had wanted to get things taken care of and tell his family about his illness back then. Hardy stood up and stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him. Rain was dripping down the wooden roof forming puddles on the tiles. He probed one with his bare toes and watched the ripples on the water.

"Alec? Please talk to me."

"I…" Hardy stopped before he could even get going. He had no idea where to start. The events of the past weeks were too overwhelming and challenging his already poor abilities to talk about himself.

Duncan sighed on the other end. "I guess you never took off work like you said you would to get yourself straightened out."

"No. I meant to though, but then those girls disappeared and somehow my life just went to shit. And then I pulled one of them out of the water and almost drowned and now her ghost is haunting me every night and I drown over and over again and my heart is shit and I'm never going to be healthy again and I almost killed Daisy in the car and I keep passing out and can't even do my job right and my boss knows but I can't tell Tess because she'll be so worried that I'll die and I might anyway and they want to put in the pacemaker next week and I'm so exhausted and I don't know what to do any more."

The silence that followed his outburst was only interrupted by the loud noise of Hardy sucking in air.

"Right," Duncan said eventually. "I see. A bit much going on there, ey? Would you mind clarifying the issue about the shitty heart and dying? 'Cause I find that a bit disconcerting, to say the least." There was just enough sarcasm in Duncan's voice to smooth out the anxious tone.

Hardy plopped on the porch swing and gently rocked himself. He didn't feel like going through a lengthy explanation but there wasn't a short version of the story. He scrubbed his face down and then it all spilled out, more slowly this time. He told Duncan about the day when he found Pippa, the horror of the recurring nightmares, how he could barely handle the fact that Pippa and Daisy were so close in age, how he couldn't detach himself emotionally from the parents, the case and his disgust over leaving a child to rot in the river. He expressed his anger and frustration about the press and how he had made a deal with the devil and it had back fired on him. He didn't hold back about the physical exhaustion, the times he actually had passed out, and the strain that had been put on his heart which it couldn't handle and most likely wouldn't be able to handle even if he did get the pacemaker. He cried when he mentioned the near accident. When he explained what Emily had made so painfully clear, that he would never be healthy again, his voice finally faltered and his stream of words ebbed down until he had nothing left to say.

Duncan listened quietly until Hardy had fallen silent. It took him a few moments to say something and Hardy was almost afraid he had scared him away.

"Alec, did you talk to Tess?" Duncan asked, worry lacing those few words.

Hardy sucked in a deep breath and let it out. "I tried. She knows something's up but I just can't tell her. She's already so worried even with the little information I gave her."

"Do you want me to come up there and sit with you guys? I don't mind. Even if Tess and I aren't on the best terms, I think it might make things easier," Duncan suggested carefully.

"No," Hardy snapped. Then he reconsidered. "Maybe. Ach, I dunno." He got up and started pacing, his bare feet leaving foot prints on the wet deck of the porch. Duncan knew him too well.

"Think about it. I could come anytime you need me. When is that procedure again?"

"My doctor said she's trying for Friday, she'll confirm tomorrow." He shivered with a wind gust blowing in the rain.

"Do you need someone to be there with you?"

Hardy hesitated. It was tempting to accept Duncan's help and to not have to tell Tess. But that wasn't a solution. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and shook his head.

"No. I mean yes, I do need someone. But it really should be Tess and no one else," he conceded quietly.

"Agreed. You do need to tell her, Alec, even if it's going to be tough on her. And Daisy too. They have a right to know what's going on with you and you have a right to share and not be alone in this." Duncan almost convinced him. "Please, don't do this to yourself. Don't be your usual closed up stubborn self, let them in." Duncan's voice was soft, urging him to do the right thing.

Hardy hummed in agreement, not wanting to articulate anything else. He peered through the window where Daisy was setting the table for tea. He smiled at the sight of her being so happy and when she spotted him he pantomimed eating cake at her. She stuck out her tongue and made a face at him. How could he ever tell her? How could he shatter her world by sharing the life threatening nature of his illness? She was still so young.

"Alec, are you listening to me?" Duncan raised his voice.

"Sorry, was distracted. We're getting ready for tea. Daisy made this secret cake, she hasn't even let me take a look at it and -"

Duncan laughed. "You still can't resist cake, can you? It's going to get you into trouble one day, just like it did back in school."

Hardy cringed. "Oi, I didn't steal the cake from the kitchen and you know that."

"Yup. You just sneaked in and ate it there instead of waiting for supper. Mrs. McLeod was ready to give you the beating of a life time if it hadn't been for yours truly taking the blame."

Hardy snorted and his lips pulled into a mischievous grin. "And of course she let you get away with it 'cause you were her darlin', always charming the women, even back then. Does Geena know about your secret love for the school matron?"

"Ah, shut it, Alec. And yes, she actually does know. 'Cause you told her right there and then, in case you forgot. Didn't deter her from sticking around though."

Hardy's grin grew wider. "I guess she was more interested in listening to Casanova than the cake thief."

They both laughed. When their laughter died down, Duncan's words were serious.

"Alec, you're my oldest friend and you know how much you mean to me. Please promise me not to be as stupid as you always are and to take care of yourself for a change. I will do anything I can to help, but you need to let me."

Hardy huffed into the phone, Daisy's scared face flashing in front of him. "Trust me, Duncan, I had my warning."

"All right then. I expect you to call me tomorrow and let me know what the deal is with the procedure and who's going with you," Duncan requested.

"Fine. I'll keep you in the loop," Hardy promised. He rubbed the back of his head. His toes were freezing and he longed for the warmth of his home. "I should get off, get back inside."

"You've been outside the whole time? Jeez, you really need to stop hiding from your family, Alec. Go eat that cake your daughter made for you and spend some time with them. I'll keep my fingers crossed you'll find the right moment to tell Tess. Call me if you need me, anytime, no matter when. I mean it."

Hardy could hear the hug in Duncan's voice. It felt good. "Thank you. I'm trying, really."

"I know you are. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye Alec."

"Bye, Duncan."

Hardy slipped his mobile into his pocket, shoving his hands next to it, and stared out into the rain. He had no idea how long he had been standing like that, when a hand on his back startled him out of his thoughts. His heart slowed and the steady dripping in front of him blurred. He blinked a few times, pulling himself together. He turned and found Tess looking worriedly at him.

"You all right?"

"'M fine, love. Just day dreaming." About death, ghosts and murdered children. The perfect past time for a rainy Sunday afternoon. He gave her a small smile, covering her hand with his.

"Come inside, Alec. You must be freezing. Daisy's prepared tea and she's finally ready to reveal the cake." Tess returned his smile and nudged him towards the door. She led him by the hand, back into the warmth of their home.

* * *

Daisy was beaming at them. She had taken out the good china and set the table with flowers. The center piece was the infamous cake.

It didn't deserve to be merely called a cake. She had outdone herself. There were multiple layers, covered with chocolate frosting which she had artfully decorated with flowers and leaves made from pink and green fondant. When she cut it and served Hardy a piece he realized the layers of chocolate and vanilla sponge cake were alternating with a berry whip cream filling. It was a piece of art.

"Oh, darlin' this is brilliant," Hardy said, pulling his daughter into an unwilling hug. He pressed a kiss on her head and breathed "Thank you" into her hair. He didn't feel one pang of guilt while devouring his piece. In fact he felt rebellious breaking all his dietary restrictions, especially when he was on his second helping. He hadn't enjoyed himself that much since the wedding and was grateful to his loving wife and daughter for giving him a day of peace and rest.

* * *

He never found the courage to tell them. Not during tea and not during supper either. Spending the afternoon together with Daisy watching movies and annoying her with his questionable choices, was a gift and he cherished every second, ignoring the nagging thoughts of doom and gloom. When he had a third piece of cake for dessert after supper, Daisy could not have been happier.

They were sitting on the sofa and Daisy was chatting on about school. Drowsiness was settling in and his eyelids started drooping. His ears perked up when she mentioned Cory again.

"So, once he's moved to London, can I visit him? I mean it would be fun, wouldn't it. I've never been and he's going to be in school and we could hang out." Her excitement was barely hidden.

"Darlin', I can't let you go to London by yourself. You're only thirteen," Hardy sighed.

"I could go with Mom," she suggested hopefully.

Hardy had no desire to go to London, but it did sting that she wanted to go with her mother instead of him. No more adventures for him and his little girl. The sadness sneaked up on him and before he knew it, it must have shown in his face.

"Or you. Or both," Daisy hurried to add when she took a look at him.

He forced himself to smile and said, "It's all right darlin'. I'm sure your mother and you would have much more fun in London without dragging your grumpy old Dad along. I don't like the crowds in the tube and I sure am useless at shopping."

"Oh, Dad. You're not. You got me that dress for the wedding and –"

"I didn't pick it. You did." He winked at her. "You've always had better taste than I. Must be your mother's genes."

Daisy grinned. "At least you listen to us. Sometimes. You could really change up that suit routine of yours. It's so stiff." She scrunched up her nose and squinted at him. "Maybe we _should_ take you to London after all. I heard a rumor they have fashion for men there as well." It was her turn to wink.

Hardy rolled his eyes at her and got up to put the cake plate away. Daisy's face swam in and out of focus and he could feel his heart slowing down. The sudden vertigo halted his movements and the plate slid out of his numb fingers.

"Dad?" Daisy's voice rang loud in his ears when he slumped back onto the sofa. He closed his eyes to shut out the spinning and focused on breathing. Emily had said this wouldn't stop his heart, only make him pass out, so no need to get too worried. _Just ride it out, Hardy_ , he was repeating to himself, trying to stay calm. Easier said than done, especially as Daisy was right there with him.

"Mum! _Mum_!" It hurt to hear the panic in her voice.

"Daisy, go get a glass of water for your father," Tess directed her calmly. Hardy's lips curled up in a small smile. Tess had always been at her most composed in time of crisis. He opened his eyes to find her worried face right by his side.

"Do you need some of those pills?" she asked quietly. Hardy assumed she didn't want to alarm Daisy.

"No. I'm fine."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm. "It's passing. I got lightheaded standing up too fast."

It wasn't that far from the truth, only a footnote in his ever growing book of lies. His heart started to pick up steam and he felt better.

"The color's back in your face. Is that what happened in the car?" Her voice was neutral but Hardy could tell she was holding back.

He rubbed the back of his head, running his tongue over his teeth. That was answer enough for her.

"I see." Her eyebrow went up and he was well aware that she was struggling with her anger. "Where's your driver's license?"

"In my wallet. Why?" He was confused.

"Because I'm confiscating it. Officially. I don't trust you not to do something stupid that would endanger you and others." She stood, towering over him.

Hardy was taken aback. How could she do that to him? How could she think this lowly of him, feel that he was of such poor judgment? _Because you've done precisely what she accused you of, you bloody idiot,_ he answered his own question.

"What's going on?" Daisy had come back with the water and scrutinized her parents.

Tess turned to her daughter, a stern look on her face. "Daisy, why did you not tell me that the two of you almost got into a car accident the other day?"

Daisy shot a quick glance to Hardy who nodded. He hated the fact that Tess felt compelled to give Daisy a hard time over not fessing up to her mother.

"Tess, leave her alone. I didn't want to tell and it's not her fault."

"Oi, not true. I said we shouldn't because you would freak out, Mum," Daisy exclaimed. Hardy scratched his eye brow, attempting to hide from his wife's wrath. Tess was piercing him with her glare and her cheeks flushed. She sucked in some air.

"I'm not _'freaking out'_ , Daisy. I'm fed up with you learning your father's unhealthy habit of downplaying serious issues and keeping them to himself. He's a master at that and frankly I've had enough of it. You guys do whatever you want." She turned her full attention to Hardy. "You can make your own choices however unreasonable they might be, Alec. You're an adult. Your daughter isn't. Don't forget that." And without saying anything else, Tess stormed out of the room, presumably on a quest to find his wallet.

Hardy leaned forward and ran his hands down his face. Daisy plopped down next to him.

"Bollocks," she mumbled.

"Daisy, language," he reprimanded her half-heartedly.

"Seriously? You wanna discuss swear words now?" It still surprised him every time how much indignation she could put in a few words.

"No." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You know, your mother is right. We should have told her," he admitted.

"Why? So that she can throw a fit over it? Nothing really happened, Dad. You ran a red light, people do that," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"We were very lucky, darlin'. You could have gotten hurt," he muttered under his breath. Now would be the time to explain to her _why_ he had lost control to help her understand why her mother was so much more upset about it. The moment came and went, without Hardy ever saying a single word. Emily's plea to tell his family burned in his mind and he knew the day would come he'd regret his decision to stay silent. But it wasn't this day.

"She's not going to let you drive me to school tomorrow, is she?" Daisy wondered out loud.

Hardy shook his head, leaning back on the sofa. His head rested against the cushion and the thought of the next day weighed down on him heavily. He was weary and for the briefest of moments he indulged the idea of being taken off the case and letting it all go. Until Pippa's face jerked him awake.

"Dad, did you fall asleep? I was talking to you." Daisy sounded annoyed.

"Sorry." He sniffed and pressed the heels of his hands on his eyeballs.

"Go to bed, Dad," Daisy sighed.

"I will, just gimme a moment," he mumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open. He slid down onto the sofa, curling up, giving in to the weariness. He was out before Daisy could even tuck a blanket around him.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope that people will feel like Hardy's family (and obviously I) did… that he needed a break. And I also hope it's not too ridiculously domestic. A glimpse of how things used to be maybe? WE all know what's coming…


	22. CHAPTER 21

**A/N:** Thanks for everyone who's still reading the story. Sorry for the delay. I had to figure out few things as the final act is drawing near. Also, sort of got sidetracked with writing "October Blues" and having fun with Duncan teasing Alec. It's Monday morning and Alec is not having a good start to the week…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 21**

Brennan's pale face was watching Hardy struggle to pull Pippa's bloated body out of the water. The boy's screams echoed over the gushing river. When they turned into pitiful sobs, Hardy woke in the dark, crying. His body was drenched in sweat once again, but this time his heart was slow, way too slow to let him even sit up. He wiped his cheeks and curled around a pillow, drifting back into the blackness where the ghosts of the children of his past waited for him. By the time he finally woke to the first rays of sun filtering through the window, he was beaten.

He dragged his body through the morning routine, his heart never speeding up enough for him to move faster than at snail's pace. The pills didn't help and he called Emily's office twice to find out how early he could come in. The receptionist insisted on him going to A&E if he didn't feel well. He ignored her advice.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, contemplating his next move, when Daisy bounced into the room. She stopped when she saw him.

"Dad, you're still here. Mom thought you had already left."

He looked up and shook his head, feeling dizzy even with the slight movement. She tilted her head and squinted at him.

"You look like you did last night when you passed out on the sofa. Are you okay?" she inquired, stepping closer.

"I didn't exactly pass out, Daisy. I was lightheaded 'cause I got up too fast." It was a feeble attempt to explain away what she had witnessed. She chewed on her lower lip.

"Daisy, I'm fine. Please don't worry. I've just been tired that's all." He resisted the urge to drag his hands over his face.

"Yah, I got that. You fell asleep on me while I was talking to you. That has never happened before," she stated sulkily.

"I did?" Hardy replied, racking his brain about that part of the evening.

"You don't even remember. Jeez, Dad." She huffed and shook her head. "How can I not worry about you? You've been so different these past weeks and Mum too. Why do the two of you always have to argue?"

The question came out of nowhere and it was a low blow for Hardy. Uncomfortable memories of his own childhood flooded to the surface and took whatever little breath he had. A choking sound escaped his throat before he could hide it. He swallowed hard, desperately trying to pull himself together.

"'M sorry," he managed to get out.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, tall and not a child at all any longer. The morning sun bathed her in a warm light, her reddish brown hair framing her beautiful face. Her hazel eyes that were so much like his rested on him for a long time. Then she suddenly moved and threw herself into his arms, hugged him tightly and before he could even react, she ran off. Closing the door, she hollered not to forget his lunch box and then she was gone.

Hardy sat stock-still. His ailing heart was overwhelmed by what had transpired. When he was able to move, he slowly gathered his things, not forgetting Daisy's lunch box. He let the sun warm him while he waited for the taxi cab to come, vowing never to fight in front of Daisy again.

* * *

Emily's nurse all but dragged her out of the room where she was seeing her first patient of the morning. She kept babbling on about calling an ambulance right away and why the hell this guy was so stubborn about refusing to go to A&E. Emily sighed, having a strong suspicion who the hard-headed patient was.

"We wouldn't be talking about Alec Hardy, would we?" she managed to ask before being shoved into the room.

The answer to her question was sitting slumped over in a chair, and when he looked up at her, she knew why her nurse was acting the way she had. His face was gaunt and ashen, and the dark circles around his orbits were making his wide eyes look more prominent than usual. Sweat was pooling on his forehead and his chest was heaving with labored breaths.

She quickly stepped up to him, placing her fingers on his neck and confirming what she was fearing.

"Christ, Alec. How did you even make it here?" She was upset enough to give up all professional pretense and hide it. Why he hadn't called for an ambulance himself was beyond her comprehension.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. "I get the impression, people don't want me here."

He struggled for air and his eyelids drooped. For a moment she thought he was going to lose consciousness. Her hand didn't leave his neck, feeling his faint and way too slow pulse. At least there were distinct beats, better than the other variation of his deadly disease.

"Alec, did you take your medication?" Emily wasn't sure what she wanted to hear. If he hadn't, she'd have some options. And could give him a decent bollocking. If on the other hand he had taken them, this was a serious problem.

"Yup. Worked like a charm," he replied, sarcasm lacing his words. "Been like this all night," he added after sucking in a breath or two.

"Did you do anything to –"

"No. I didn't do shit. I had a good day with my family, that's what I did. I ate some cake and watched movies and when I got up from the fucking sofa my bloody heart gave out," he spat at her, surprisingly animated for a person whose heart was beating at half the pace it probably should.

There was a knock at the door and her nurse poked in her head. "I've called the ambulance, ma'am. Do you want me to get the defibrillator to hook him up for monitoring?"

Emily was nodding and thanking her, when Hardy tried to get up. His legs buckled and it took both women to hold him upright and put him back onto the chair.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Alec?" Emily asked, her voice certainly raised above acceptable professional level.

"'M leaving, not going to the hospital," he growled.

Emily lost it. It had never happened to her before but then she never had to treat someone as unreasonable as the person in front of her.

"Fine. If you can make it out this office, you don't need to come back. I'm done with your stubborn refusal of letting people help you. I can give you the name of one of my colleagues and you're welcome to ignore his advice instead of mine."

They stared at each other until Hardy's body finally won over his mind. He moaned, clutched his chest and fell off the chair.

 _Great._ Just what she needed to make this a perfect Monday morning. She swiftly stooped down next to him, again feeling for his weak pulse. It was picking up speed and his eyes fluttered opened. By the time the nurse had wheeled in the defibrillator, Hardy's heart rate had returned to its normal irregular beat. He was still lying on the floor, not making any attempt at moving. His gaze didn't leave her.

"Are you really kicking me out?" His eyes were wide and fearful.

Against her better judgement, she held out her hand. She was sure if she'd transferred his care now that he wouldn't make it for another month as nobody would really question his poor decision making like she did. He gripped her hand, holding on tightly while he clambered to his feet. He fell heavily onto the chair, eyes still following her every move.

"You didn't answer," he said quietly.

She let out a sigh. "No, I'm not kicking you out. But we have to have a serious talk. You can't go on like this. You should be lying in a hospital bed, not on my floor. You should get your pacemaker placed and not chase murderers."

"You know I can't." His voice was soft, and the underlying sadness was clenching her heart. She pulled a chair next to him and sat down. Her hand came to rest on his arm, giving as much comfort as she could.

"Alec, when I'm going to walk out of this room I'm going to book the EP procedure for Thursday. I would even do it as soon as tomorrow but I'm afraid you wouldn't show. I'm giving you two days to get yourself figured out. I want to see you on Wednesday to discuss the details and to check on you. I expect you to call me tomorrow to let me know how you're doing. These are my terms. You can follow them or not, but I'm going to make myself perfectly clear that if you don't I will send you to a different cardiologist."

She hated having to threaten him, but she didn't have any other tricks left up her sleeve. He stayed mute, just staring ahead. His jacket was hanging loosely off of his frame, his bangs were covering his eyes and he hadn't shaved in at least a couple of days.

"Alec, please, look at yourself. I met you about a month or so ago, a successful police officer and a worried father, bringing his daughter to A&E. Since then you've had a cardiac arrest, several near misses, a concussion, and your arrhythmia is far from being controlled with medications. You've lost a lot of weight, you don't eat, you can't sleep and you're barely able to do your job. You almost killed yourself in the car and you're hiding your heart condition from your family and your work."

She watched him shrink while she was rattling off the salient points of his rapidly unravelling life. It made her profoundly uncomfortable but she felt she had no choice.

"This isn't sustainable. I worry about you, now and for what may come. You finally need to accept that your life has changed forever and then deal with it. Let's work on this together and make the best of it."

"The best?" he echoed her words. Then he looked up and said bleakly, "And what would that be?"

Emily frowned. There was an undertone she had not heard before and didn't like. She didn't recall any history of depression, at least not any that he had disclosed. She had noticed that he more often than not seemed rather emotional and sometimes she had wondered about that. She made a mental note to watch closely for any more concerning signs.

She leaned in. "Control, Alec. That's the best we can do. So that you a chance to live a fairly normal life with your family and to hopefully work a job you like. And the sooner we get things going the better the chance will be."

Hardy ran his hands over his face, sniffed and then nodded, his mouth open. "All right. Thursday it is."

Emily smiled, stood and squeezed his shoulder. "You feel well enough to leave? If not you can stay for a bit longer, but don't make me reconsider the hospital admission."

His lips curled up in a small smile. "'M fine." He slowly got to his feet, almost successfully hiding how weak he still was.

She watched him leave her office, wondering why he always made her feel so lonely.

* * *

By the time the taxi dropped him off at the station, Hardy's condition had only marginally improved. It was sufficient though to give him the needed energy to push his way through the crowd of journalists that had gathered on the steps leading up to the doors. He ducked under the flashing lights, ignoring everyone who was calling his name or shoving recording devices in his face. When PC Jensen came to his aid and helped holding the reporters back, he was relieved.

"Thanks, Jensen," Hardy mumbled once they were inside.

"Don't mention it, sir. Wish one of them would have been a bit more physical. Wouldn't have minded punching them in the face. It's disgusting, if you don't mind me saying," PC Jensen ranted on.

Hardy's eyes were downcast while the two waited for the elevator. He could feel others stare at him and he loathed being the center of attention. His ears were burning and all he wanted was to hide in his office.

"Did my wife get here okay?" he asked, for once not hiding behind formalities.

"Yes, sir. She came through the parking garage. One of the bastards found his way inside and we gladly booked him for trespassing. He was dumb enough to resist arrest." There was a pleased smirk on Jensen's face. Hardy groaned inwardly. He couldn't wait for the article about police brutality. He held back saying anything though as Jensen was acting out of loyalty to his own.

The elevator came and mercifully it was just Jensen and Hardy entering.

"The boss wants to see you when you get in. Sent me down to make sure you didn't get held up by those arseholes out there."

 _Ah_ , that explained the loyalty. Hardy had been wondering how he had earned the protectiveness of his PC. He nodded silently.

"Sir, can I say something?" Before Hardy could reply yes or no, Jensen continued, "I think it was really brave what you did back then, saving your wife and such. And going after that poor boy into the river…" Jensen shook his head. "Such a tragedy. Even down here we had heard of Carter. He was a total nut job, if you ask me."

Jensen shuffled his feet and a faint redness was creeping up his pudgy cheeks. Apparently he had more to say.

"You know, the lads and I, we don't think it's true what they wrote, sir. You're tough and sometimes an arse, but not reckless. You always got our backs with the boss and you work hard. You risked your own life to get that poor girl out of the water, not everyone would have done that. It wasn't a breach of procedure, it was human, that's what it was. If you need us to keep them away from you and your family, just give us a shout."

Jensen's face was bright red now, but he held Hardy's gaze who stood there mouth gaping open, unable to find the right words. They were saved by the elevator door opening and Jensen hurried to leave before Hardy even had a chance to recover. Hardy had been wrong about Jensen's sense of loyalty. It was more than obligation ordered from above. The elevator door was closing again and Hardy quickly stuck his hand out to hold it open. He stepped out into the hallway, still dumbfounded by this unexpected display of support. He slowly walked towards CID, noticing the smiles and nods of many of his colleagues.

When he entered the large room, the buzz stopped and all eyes turned to him. He froze. The awkward silence dragged on until Baxter stuck his head out of his office.

"What the hell is… oh, I see." Baxter's eyebrow went up and he stepped up to Hardy. He put a hand on Hardy's shoulder and turned to his staff.

"Get back to work. Enough with the staring, you're making this poor man lose his pale complexion," Baxter barked at the crowd.

Hardy noted Tess hiding in her corner of the room and their eyes locked. This was very reminiscent of what they had escaped from in Glasgow. When nobody moved, Baxter sighed.

"Listen everyone. We've all read the article. I can assure you that none of the opinions expressed in that shit piece of writing is in any way reflective of my own or that of my superiors. We fully stand behind DI Hardy and support his leadership of this investigation. Whatever was said about the past has no bearing on today."

There was some movement but people seemed hesitant. Then DC Swenson stepped forward. "Sir, I can't speak for everyone but I did want to say that I for my part feel the same way." Several others joined her, mumbling their agreement.

Baxter's face relaxed. "Good, then we are all on the same page. Go back to whatever it was that you were doing, and let's make sure we get those bastards behind bars."

Finally the crowd dispersed and the normal noises resumed. Hardy was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Baxter squeezed his shoulder and whispered into his ear, "Move your sorry arse into my office, now, or do I have to slap you?"

Hardy jumped at the sound of Baxter's voice and with a gentle push, he trudged over to his boss' desk.

* * *

Baxter closed the door behind them. Hardy didn't wait for an invitation and slumped down on a chair. Baxter perched on his desk, arms crossed over his chest. His grey eyes didn't miss a move that Hardy made. It left Hardy with an uncomfortable feeling and for once it was him who broke the silence.

"Can you stop doing that?" he demanded.

"Stop doing what? Sticking my neck out for you? Or is it bothering you that I give a shit about you?" Baxter was disgruntled.

Hardy's patience was wearing thin but he realized a peace offering might be in order.

"Thanks for making me take the weekend off," he said.

Baxter let out a sarcastic huff. "I guess it wasn't as restful as it could have been. How're you holding up?"

"I'm managing." Hardy paused and contemplated how much he should reveal. "Had a bit of a rough time after running away from the reporters. Was able to keep Daisy out of it though."

Baxter squinted at him. "Did you see your doctor this morning? You don't look so hot."

"'M fine, Ed. And yes, I did see her. We're planning the next steps." He left it at that, not yet ready to ask his boss for the day off.

Baxter didn't buy it. "Alec, you'll have to give me more than that. Why did Tess call around on Friday night, looking for you?"

Hardy's gaze whipped up. He had forgotten all about that. _Bollocks_. One look at Baxter's face made it clear that he wouldn't be easily satisfied.

"Erm... I came home late, my phone had died and she couldn't get a hold of me," he explained.

"And? Where were you? I know that Jensen had dropped you off at the Gillespie house. What happened?" Baxter's voice was stern.

"Are you questioning me? Since when do I have to account for my movements?" Hardy's exasperation grew.

"Ever since you've got a serious heart condition that you're trying to hide. I've talked more to my brother, the cardiologist, and I'm having a really hard time with this. So, you better come clean or that's it."

Baxter had started pacing and Hardy wished he could join him to walk off some of the frustration that was building up.

"Why is everyone threatening me today?" Hardy complained.

"Maybe because appealing to reason doesn't work with you," Baxter retorted. Then he planted himself right in front of Hardy. He poked his chest with his index finger, underscoring his words.

"What happened Friday night?"

Hardy swatted at Baxter's hand. "It's none of your business."

Baxter straightened up, crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

"Oh for God's sake, this is ridiculous." Hardy threw up his arms and gave up.

"Fine. I went to the river where I found Pippa and then...," Hardy trailed off.

"Then what?" Baxter barked.

"I passed out in the woods. Didn't come to until it was dark. Got a lift from some guy whose dog found me, I think," Hardy confessed.

" _You think_?" Baxter's face was bright red. "That's it, you're done. I'm pulling the plug on this. I can't believe I just publicly announced that I'm backing you as SIO while you're busying yourself collapsing in a field of bluebells," Baxter shouted mere inches away from Hardy's face.

"Ach, stop it, Ed. I feel bad enough that I was so moronic and went there. Dunno what I was thinking. It's not like I need a reminder, considering that I have nightmares about the girl every fucking night." His last words didn't even come close to reflecting his anguish.

Baxter plopped down behind his desk, running his hands through his hair.

"And how is that supposed to convince me to _not_ put you on leave?" Baxter questioned him.

Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his fingers linger on his eyes. "I dunno, Ed. But maybe you could give me the benefit of the doubt. I pushed myself walking those three miles and that was dumb. I won't do that again, trust me. It wasn't exactly fun, wondering if I might die alone in those fucking woods." Hardy's voice broke with the eerie memory of his nightmare come true.

Baxter leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. The worry in his eyes was hard to take and Hardy trained his gaze on the clock on the wall instead.

"Alec, please look at me," Baxter requested gently. The harshness had disappeared from his voice and was replaced with kindness. Reluctantly, Hardy did as asked.

"I'm not here to hurt you, I want to help you, but you don't let me. What if nobody had found you?"

Hardy stared blankly ahead. He didn't have an answer to that. He slowly shook his head, shrugging his shoulders at the same time.

"Did you talk to Tess over the weekend?" Baxter already sounded doubtful before Hardy even had a chance to answer.

"No, not really. I tried, but she got so upset with me, never got anywhere. And then she was so scared. I couldn't tell her," Hardy admitted tonelessly.

"Oh, Alec. She's your wife, you shouldn't worry about scaring her. Not knowing might be worse."

"Easier said than done," Hardy sighed. The tugging in his chest was back and after a brief debate with himself he pulled his pills out of his pocket. Baxter already had seen him take them, so what difference would it make? Passing out in front of him would most likely be more detrimental to his career.

Baxter frowned, pushing over a bottle with water. "What did your doctor really tell you this morning?" It was a quiet question but Hardy knew that him being able to close the case would stand and fall with his answer.

"Erm… she wants me to undergo a cardiac cath procedure to determine if I need a pacemaker."

"I see," Baxter said, sucking in some air. He leaned back in his chair. "And when is that going to happen?"

Hardy's ears were burning. "She's working on the date."

"Alec, you better not be lying to me about this. I'm not only risking your arse here but also my own with keeping you on the case. I need you to be on top of your game, especially now with all those journalists sniffing around. No fuck ups, do you hear me?" Baxter was dead serious.

"I'm not planning on any," Hardy grumbled.

"Don't get smart with me," Baxter snapped. "So far you did well and I know how much it means to you to see this through. So I'm willing to let it go against my better judgement. Use your brain, not your body to solve this. And to be perfectly clear, the second this is over you're out."

Hardy kept his mouth shut. Anything he could have said might have shattered the thin ice his boss was willing to let him walk on. No need to bring up the fact that the procedure was planned for in two days. Maybe the spook would be over by then.

"Any news on the arrest warrant?" Hardy said, steering the conversation into safer waters.

"We should know by noon. You better spend your time coming up with something more compelling than what you have so far. CPS wasn't thrilled but they were willing to look it over."

Hardy took this as his way out. He clambered to his feet. "Right. Just let me know. I'll be in my office."

Baxter nodded, his concerned eyes resting on him. Hardy couldn't shake the feeling that they were still following him while he was walking slowly through CID up until he closed the door behind him. He leaned against it, letting out the breath he had been holding in since the moment he entered the building.

* * *

Hardy was staring at his computer screen, his chin resting on his hand. His eyelids were drooping shut and his head jerked when it slid off its support.

"You need to stop sleeping on the sofa, Alec," Tess chided him.

He lifted his gaze and made a humming sound in agreement. She was leaning against his door, cradling a few file folders.

"That was rather nice of Baxter to speak up in your behalf. It's good to know that your team stands behind you." There was an envious undertone in her voice that Hardy chose to ignore.

"Yup." His fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose, shoving his glasses up his forehead. He had no energy to rise to her bait and provoke another fight.

"Dave and I were going over the board to see what we've got in case we get the arrest warrant and where we might have missed something. Do you wanna come?" She invited him with a tilt of her head.

He frowned. Usually she would do this with him, but then Dave Thompson had been part of the investigation just as much as her or Hardy himself. He pushed away from the desk and got to his feet. The fatigue hadn't left him and he trudged slowly behind her towards the board. Thompson joined them from what apparently had been a coffee run. There were two cups, nothing for a third person. Not that he could drink coffee anyway. Thompson precariously balanced the cups at the edge of a desk in order to put his wallet away. In a moment of utter childishness, Hardy wondered how many steps it would take him to accidently bump his DS and make him spill the coffee. If he couldn't have any, then nobody should.

 _Right. Get a grip, Hardy._

Something must have shown on his face, because Thompson's cheeks turned red and he muttered an apology that he didn't think of bringing one for Hardy. Hardy ignored him and stepped up to the board.

Tess quickly summarized the facts they had from forensics, pathology and the various statements. It wasn't much.

They had Pippa's body but they didn't know where she was murdered or even exactly how. There was a pendant missing from Pippa's list of belongings that her mother swore she had been wearing that day. No trace of Lisa besides her phone triangulating to Portsmouth eighteen hours after the presumed time of Pippa's death. As far as they could tell, neither one of the families nor the Ashworths had been anywhere near there. There was the stalker that nobody really had seen and remained unidentified. Lisa's parents both had been out of town whereas Pippa's parents had been with each other the whole night. Ricky Gillespie was directing them towards the neighbors, Cate didn't seem to think it was possible.

Main suspect was Lee Ashworth. Close to the family, especially Pippa, possibly a love interest of Lisa. One of the few hard pieces of evidence they had was the DNA match of the hair that was found in Pippa's bed. A possible motive was unclear. The question if he had the opportunity was a crucial one. Claire Ripley's implication that she had not been with her husband that night could change everything, however she hadn't made an official statement.

"So, are you going to go after her, sir?" Thompson asked.

Hardy was pacing back and forth in front of the board. Somewhere during the recount his heart had decided to play ball and support his brain's need to walk around while thinking. _Use your brain, not your body_ , Baxter had said. Hardy snorted. Easier said than done. Not getting enough blood flowing to his head wasn't really helpful with that concept.

"Sir?" Thompson prompted.

"What?" Hardy snapped at him, being jerked out of his train of thought. Thompson's puzzled face made Hardy painfully aware of the fact that he had been sourly lacking in attention.

"Claire Ripley, are you going to go after her? To make her change her statement?" Thompson repeated his question.

Hardy rubbed the back of his head. "I'll have to, if she doesn't come forward herself. She seemed scared of her husband."

"Ach, Alec, why can't you see that she's just playing the damsel in distress card with you?" Tess dismissed his concern.

Hardy raised an eyebrow. He already wasn't very happy when Tess talked to him like this at home but at work it wasn't acceptable at all. A quick glance around confirmed that Tess' loud comment had garnered some attention.

"Tess, I would appreciate it if you could keep your voice down," he said quietly, stepping close to her.

She rolled her eyes at him, but stayed quiet. He let it go and turned towards the board again. It was an infuriating sight as they still didn't have enough evidence. The pressure of needing to close the case before either Baxter would lose his patience with him or his body finally would give out was growing. It wasn't helping to control his temper. He stared at the markings of the whereabouts of the family and the Ashworths on the map. There was a smudge over Ricky's tracing. Hardy adjusted his glasses and squinted at it.

"A fucking coffee stain?" he exclaimed incredulously. He turned and shot a death stare at Thompson.

"Did you do this? Smudge the map with your coffee?" he barked at Thompson who ducked under Hardy's sudden outburst of anger.

"Alec! Leave him alone," Tess ordered him sharply. Hardy spun around to be greeted by her annoyed face that she usually reserved for his missteps at home. He tried for the briefest moment not to lose his temper, but when she raised her eyebrow at him, everything went out the window.

"Excuse me? Did you say something, DS Henchard? Because if you did, you should address me with 'sir'," he said, voice low and equally as sharp as Tess'. He ran his tongue over his teeth and lifted his eyebrows and chin. When she didn't reply, he continued, "Thought so."

He saw her turning red and he knew then she wasn't going down easily.

"Look at you, pulling rank. Feeling a bit inferior? Congratulations on your great leadership skills by the way, yelling at staff for no good reason is a proven way to success, _sir_." She spat the last word at him.

Hardy's mouth gaped open. She was a vicious fighter, but this was unusually venomous. He took in a deep breath, balling his hands into fists. For the second time that day, CID had grown quiet and Hardy was sure everyone was looking at them. If she didn't say anything else, he might be able to keep it together and not completely lose face in front of his whole team. She didn't.

"How fortunate for you that you have the unwavering support of your superiors. Because if you hadn't, someone might actually figure out that you let other people do the hard work and then take the credit for it. Like you've done for years with me," Tess threw at him.

He closed his eyes, willing her to stop. "Tess, enough," he growled.

"Oh, it's Tess now. Whatever happened to DS Henchard? Just using it when and for what it suits you. Dave and I did all the leg work and what have –"

" _Enough!"_ He shouted so loudly that whatever chatter had still been going on abruptly stopped. "You have achieved exactly nothing. Whatever we've got for this case either came from forensics or from statements where I questioned the suspects. You haven't done shit besides chat up poor Cate Gillespie. Neither one of you could find the stalker, nor figure out what the hell happened to Lisa's phone. I don't know what you do all day, but it's not very productive."

There was a brief exchange of glances between Tess and Thompson but he was too angry to pay closer attention.

"I'm sick and tired of your insubordination. If you can't handle that I'm your boss and call the shots, then find a different position. And it's time that you stop accusing me of taking advantage of you or any other staff members. I don't do that, do you hear me? Ever." He was shouting by the end.

"You do it at home. With your daughter. I make sure everything is up and running and you take her and have all the fun with her. And I get left with being the bitch that spoils everything. Thanks for that, Alec."

Hardy was breathing hard. His eyes were boring through her and before he knew it, he was an inch away from her face.

"Don't you dare drag Daisy into this," he hissed at her between clenched teeth. She didn't flinch and stood her ground. Then her lips curled up to a smirk. She was getting ready for the final punch. It was hard and straight to the heart.

"No need to, you already did. Just like your parents. Oh and by the way, did you know she doesn't want to go to London with you? Looks like Daddy's little girl is finally coming around."

Hardy glared at her unable to speak, hands clenched tightly into fists. His breathing was more labored now and as the haze of the anger was being replaced with shock and hurt over what she had said, his brain registered the tugging in his chest that was travelling down his left arm. His heart was racing out of control, driven by his madness and her fury. What had they done?

She stepped around him and very deliberately took the cup of coffee from Thompson. She drank a big gulp. Some drops spilled. She wiped them up with her index finger and then smeared them on the map, all the while wearing a cold smile on her face.

"You should really ease up a bit, Alec. Wouldn't want to get too emotional, would you now? I hear some people have trouble with that," she said, derision dripping off of her voice.

Hardy looked up and crossed eyes with Baxter who had come out of his office. Baxter didn't make a move or say a word, just stared at him. Hardy shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the strong need to hide. The pain in his chest was getting worse. His hand curled around the pill packet. The sharp prick from the edges jump started him and without saying a word or looking back he stormed out of CID, down the stairs and out the building. He made it to the nearby park, where he collapsed onto a bench, fighting for air and a grasp on the world alike. He pulled his knees up and hugged them tightly, hiding his head between his arms, desperately trying to find any comfort he could get.


	23. CHAPTER 22

A/N: Thank you for all the comments on the previous chapter. **And a special thanks to all the guest commenters** who left a note on the previous chapter or any of the other ones – I wish there was a way to reply directly. Hardy's day continues… and so does the heart ache. Also, we meet "What's-the-point-of-you" Craig again ;-)

* * *

CHAPTER 22

Baxter found Hardy in the park. He had guessed correctly, assuming that Hardy couldn't have gone far. He had tried calling Hardy until Swenson told him that Hardy's mobile was ringing in his office. It was in Hardy's coat pocket, together with a bunch of pills. Baxter's worry was immediate and he felt compelled to go looking for his friend.

He slowed down, taking in the man in front of him. Hardy was sitting sideways on the bench, long legs folded up. His arms were wrapped around his knees and his head was hanging down. Baxter approached Hardy and took a seat next to him. Hardy didn't stir and kept his back to him.

"Alec? Are you okay?" Baxter asked gently, placing a hand on his friend's back.

Hardy shook his head and sniffed.

"No. I'm not," he pressed through clenched teeth.

Hardy's words surprised Baxter as his friend wasn't one for admitting to distress easily. It must have hit him harder than Baxter expected. Tess had been vicious and if he hadn't known that Hardy's relationship had its challenges as of late, he would have been rather taken aback. Come to think of it, he still was, despite being privy to Hardy's marital issues.

"I'm sorry. She was quite the bitch, if you don't mind me saying."

Hardy unfolded his long legs, moaning a bit. "'S my fault. I provoked her," he sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face.

Baxter highly doubted that, but then he hadn't been there for the whole thing.

"How did it start?" Baxter inquired against his better judgement. He really shouldn't get involved.

Hardy snorted. "A fucking coffee stain… that's how it started."

"A coffee stain?" Baxter scrunched up his face. What the hell was going on with Hardy? Was he cracking under the pressure of the case?

"Don't look at me like that, Ed," Hardy snapped at him. "There was a smudge on the map and I yelled at Thompson for it. Tess had nothing better to do than scold me like a school boy about it. Unfortunately for her I wasn't in the mood to tolerate her usual horseshit and I called her out on it. She didn't appreciate that to say the least."

Hardy didn't have to say more. It wasn't the first time that Tess had lashed out when being reminded that her husband was her boss. He had never seen them fall apart like this though. And for Tess to drag in their personal life, and their daughter of all things, was overstepping a boundary that Hardy upheld strictly. It still was concerning though that he would lose his temper over something so insignificant like a smudge on a map. It worried Baxter more than he was willing to admit.

He handed Hardy his coat. "Here. Your phone and pills are in there. Thought you might want those when you go and arrest Lee Ashworth."

Hardy's gaze whipped up. "We've got the warrant?"

Baxter nodded and pulled the paperwork out of his jacket pocket. He held it out to Hardy who stared at the envelope, without even reaching for it.

"What's wrong Alec? This is what you wanted."

Hardy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped hands dangling between his legs. He didn't look at his boss when he said, no emotion in his voice,

"Let Tess and Thompson do it. My peace offering."

"What? Why? He's your suspect, you did all the work. Tess' accusations are bullshit and you know it."

Baxter was baffled. This had never happened before. He scrutinized Hardy and when he noted the ever so slight flinch of pain in his friend's face he knew what was going on. _Clever, Hardy, but not good enough_ , Baxter thought.

"Is your heart bothering you?" They were back to interrogation.

Hardy shook his head and tried to stand up. His face grew a shade whiter and Baxter had to catch Hardy's arm that was blindly reaching for support. Hardy slumped back on the bench, taking in some slow breaths.

"That's it. I'm putting you on leave," Baxter stated angrily. He was done with his DI's games.

Hardy's lack of protest reinforced his decision. This man wasn't able to take care of himself, so he would make sure he'd do what was best for him. He was about to get up when Hardy's words held him back.

"Promise me to put him behind bars. Can you do that for me, please? I couldn't live with myself if we couldn't close this case," Hardy said, barely audible. His eyes were watery and he was kneading his thighs. He pushed himself up and muttered under his breath, "I guess I'm done here."

He shrugged his coat on. A pill packet fell out. Hardy froze, staring at it. "You know, one of the doctors said to me that I'm lucky that I made it this far. If this is how it's going to be, I think maybe I wasn't," Hardy uttered, voice flat and hollow.

Baxter swallowed. There had been a time when his daughter had spoken very similar words. It had been a very dark moment in their lives. It had taken a lot of patience and support for her to escape the bleakness surrounding her leukemia diagnosis. Maybe pressure and threats weren't what Hardy needed, maybe all he needed was a helping hand to guide him back to the path he knew and could walk.

Baxter stooped down and picked up the pills. He took Hardy's hand, placed them in his palm and closed his fingers around them. Then he found his friend's eyes and held his gaze.

"You know what. I trust you. I trust you to do the right thing and to know when to stop and ask for help. I trust you to finish this case and get justice for those girls. And if you need me to give you a hand, I'm here. For the case and for the heart as well."

He smiled at Hardy's stoic face that was so desperately trying to hide his emotions and failing spectacularly. Tears were glittering in Hardy's eyes and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Baxter put his hand on Hardy's shoulder and gently nudged him along.

"Come. Let's go back and get the bastard," he encouraged Hardy.

They had almost reached the exit to the park, when Hardy found his voice. His _'thank you'_ was mumbled and all that his shaken up state allowed him to say. Baxter took it for what it was, a sincere expression of gratitude from one of his best friends. He placed his arm around Hardy's shoulders and squeezed him, quick and hard.

When they returned, Hardy still sent Tess and Thompson to go after Ashworth. Yet again, Baxter found himself wondering how soon the day would come that he'd regret this decision.

* * *

A knock jolted Hardy awake. He had fallen asleep on his sofa, too tired to do anything else while waiting for Lee Ashworth to be brought in. He dragged himself to his feet and opened the door.

"Craig? What do you want?" he growled, unable to be civil.

Craig raised an eyebrow and tugged nervously on his bow tie.

"About that hacker job up in Glasgow –"

Before Craig could finish his sentence, Hardy had pulled him into his office and slammed the door shut behind him. Craig flinched.

"Can't you be a bit more discreet about this?" Hardy snarled at him.

Craig scrunched up his freckled nose. "Well, it's not like everybody doesn't know by now."

Hardy shot him a piercing glance, then sighed and plopped onto his chair. He gestured for Craig to do the same.

"I guess you're right. Sorry. It's been a bit tense," Hardy admitted.

Craig nodded. "Can only imagine. Wouldn't wanna be in your place these days. How's your daughter holding up?"

The question surprised Hardy but then those times that Daisy had met Craig the two always got along well. Usually at Hardy's expense, but he didn't mind the teasing and happy banter.

"Better than I am." The words came out of his mouth before he even thought about it.

Crag tilted his head. His eyes narrowed and he gave Hardy a worried look. "You know, if you need any help with something, I'll be glad to assist if I can. Not much to do for me in this case, but still."

"Thanks, Craig," Hardy mumbled, embarrassed by the sentiment behind Craig's words.

"Don't mention it." Craig paused and shifted in his chair. "So, about the Glasgow thing… I talked to the guy who initially thought it was a deliberate job. I think you know him, Alistair Murray."

"Murray's back there?" Hardy asked.

This was a pleasant surprise. He had met Murray in the academy and against all odds they had become friends. They had lost track of each other after he'd left Glasgow and Murray had decided to take a break from police work, sell all his belongings and sail around the world. The last time they'd talked, Hardy was drunk in a pub wittering on about how much he hated boats and why on earth one would want to live on one was beyond his ability to comprehend. Murray was equally drunk and made fun of him being a land lubber and a coward. He missed him ever since he'd waved goodbye from the shore while Murray was following his dream.

"Yup, that seems to be the case. He's really not that bad when it comes to computer stuff," Craig said nonchalantly.

Hardy hid a smile. Out of Craig's mouth those words were high praise. He had very high standards that most failed to meet, including Hardy himself who was what Craig called ' _tech challenged'_.

"We looked into the records and pulled up all the security protocols. It was really hard to trace what this person did. He used a very clever way of bypassing the firewall. To be honest with you, Alistair and I drooled a bit over it once we found it. Really elegant and smooth. Totally went around the MAC protocol, hijacked a couple of proxies and wrote this cuspy program to get whatever he wanted without leaving many footprints. Ultra kluge, if you ask me." The admiration in Craig's voice grated on Hardy's nerves. Not to mention that he seriously hated it when his tech staff got carried away with all the jargon.

"Can you not use tech babble with me," Hardy growled.

Craig's pasty face blushed. "Sorry, sir. Got a bit excited there. Whoever did this is a pro and really good at what he does. And when I say he, I'm only using it out of habit. Could have been a woman too. No indication either way. Most hackers are male, but that's changing."

Hardy hummed in agreement. There was one burning question on his mind. He didn't want to ask, but he had to.

"So… do you agree with Murray's theory that it was geared towards getting the Carter case file?"

"Absolutely." There was no hesitation in Craig's voice, only conviction.

Hardy rubbed his chin and sniffed. "Why're you guys so certain?" He desperately wanted it not to be true.

"Erm… how do I explain this to you? It was the way he approached it and what his search pathways were. And a few other things, like the rest of the stolen data were very random, no pattern. Considering how sophisticated everything else was, the haphazard collection of the other information made us wonder if he deliberately left a clue that he was after the Carter file. Hackers like to play games like that, so it's a possibility."

Hardy stared at Craig. He was profoundly uncomfortable with the news he had received. "Did you tell Baxter yet?"

"Yup, I gave him a written report. He seemed just as worried as you are. Not surprisingly so."

"Were you able to trace him back to an origin or a location?" Hardy asked, having little hope.

Craig shook his head. "Sorry, sir. We tried really hard but lost him very quickly. As I said, very crafty guy."

Hardy nodded, his mouth open. "Thanks, Craig. I appreciate it. I owe you one."

"It's all right. Let me know if I can be of further help." Craig stood and turned towards the door. "Oh, before I forget. Alistair said to tell you to give him a ring. He wants to show you – and I quote as he made me swear I would use the exact words – _'exhilarating footage of him crashing the waves'_. He also mentioned I might need a bucket when I deliver the message. Why did he say that?"

Craig's face was puzzled and Hardy's was green with the thought of waves and boats. Craig tilted his head, stretched out his long leg and shoved the trashcan closer to Hardy's chair.

"I see. Not much of a boat person then, ey?" Craig commented.

Hardy shook his head, resisting the urge to cover his mouth with his hand. Craig left with a smirk on his face and Hardy just wanted to hide somewhere.

* * *

Locating Lee Ashworth was taking longer than expected. SOCO was at the Ashworth's house, supervised by Thompson, while Tess was looking for Lee. Apparently, neither Lee's wife nor his work colleagues at his last construction site had any knowledge of his whereabouts. Hardy felt trapped in his office. A walk sounded very appealing and for the second time that day, he ended up in the park, sitting on the same bench as he had a few hours earlier.

He twirled his phone in his hands until he finally had the courage to call back Duncan who was quick to answer.

"Alec. Your heart problem must be messing with your head. You're actually following instructions. Astonishing."

Hardy snorted into the phone and propped it between his shoulder and ear, fumbling to open the lunch box Daisy had given him.

"So, did you hear from your doctor?" There was doubt in Duncan's voice.

"Aye. Saw her this morning. Didn't go so well. She threatened to kick me out if I didn't get myself taken care of."

Duncan sniggered. "Ah, I wanna meet this lady. She sounds like a formidable person. Serves you right to be treated like a four-year-old if you don't listen to reason. When are you getting it done then?"

Hardy groaned. The idea of Duncan and Emily in the same room made him sweat.

"She gave me two days, scheduled it for Thursday." The last word rolled off of his tongue as if it was a bitter tasting fruit. He dreaded the day, knowing that after the study he'd have the final answer that he now was still able to shove into a dark corner of his mind.

"Shit. I can't do Thursday. Have to take Cory to London," Duncan replied. "Did you talk to Tess?"

Hardy stopped unpacking his lunch. "No," he said hesitantly.

"Alec, you have to tell her," Duncan urged him.

"And how am I supposed to do that? Either she cries or she's a total bitch to me. Yesterday she confiscated my driver's license and today we entertained the whole office with scratching each other's eyes out. That was fun." Hardy was shouting into the phone, letting his frustration get the better of him.

"I see," Duncan sighed. "Is there anyone else who can come with you? What about your boss, Baxter? You're friends, aren't you? And didn't you mention that he already knows about your heart condition?"

"He's gonna take me off the case if he finds out," Hardy blurted out.

"Seriously? That's your biggest concern? Don't you think your boss will figure it out anyway if you're gone for the day in the middle of a murder investigation? He's a smart man, he'll make the connection to your heart problem. You might as well be upfront about it," Duncan reasoned.

Hardy chewed on his lip and fidgeted with the chipped wood of the bench. It was infuriating. If he'd had the courage to talk to his wife, this didn't need to be an issue. It was also childish, but after this morning's altercation he was even less willing to share with her. His eyes fell on Daisy's note that she had left for him in the lunch box.

 _Dad,_

 _Don't forget to eat your growing food before dessert. There is cake. Yesterday was nice. I'm sorry about the way it ended. I'm sure Mum will come around once she calms down._

 _Love you,  
Daisy_

 _P.S. I'm worried about you. Promise to take care yourself. Please!_

Hardy stared at Daisy's curly writing and her words from the morning echoed through his mind.

"I'm a horrible father," he muttered into the phone, not realizing he was thinking out loud.

"What? Have you gone completely mad? Why would you say that? You're the most devoted father I've ever seen and you'd do anything for this little girl." Duncan sounded almost offended.

"She's not little any more. Certainly big enough to notice her parents argue all the time," Hardy sighed. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He resisted the urge of burying his head under his arms, trying to keep it together.

There was silence on the other side. When Duncan spoke again, his voice was warm. "Alec, you and Tess are nothing like your parents. _You_ are not like them. You're not like your father who couldn't give enough emotional support to his family and was disengaged. I've never met your mother, so I can't comment, but if anything you've taken on her loving and caring side. Don't do this to yourself and think that you're doing to Daisy what they did to you. Please?"

"And how is it different? I'm fucking hiding a serious health problem just like my mother did and I'm not taking care of it," Hardy spat into the phone. They both knew what he'd left out, that his mother had died taking her own life, succumbing to the untreated depression. If he'd died before he could even get the pacemaker, his path would have been awfully close to his mother's. He shuddered with the thought.

Rubbing the back of his head, he continued with his rant. "This morning Daisy asked me why we argue all the time and it hurt, Duncan. I had no answer for her 'cause there isn't a good one. My child is trying to comfort me, telling me she's worried about me and all I can do is stay silent. I hate it."

"Then fucking change it, Alec. Go and tell your family what's going on with you. Tell your boss the full truth and get the help you need. You're being stupid about this and you know it. You have a couple more days to sort yourself out. Don't waste them," Duncan urged him.

Of course his friend was right. He really needed to put aside his fears and…

"DI Hardy? Can I talk to you?"

Hardy's head snapped up. He squinted against the sun and recognized Claire Ripley's angry face. He sucked in a quick breath and sat up straight.

"Claire. What're you doing here?" His Scottish accent was thick with the surprise and the profoundly unsettling feeling that she must have followed him in order to find him here.

"Alec? Everything okay? You sound a bit rattled." Duncan's worried voice reminded him that he was still on the phone with his friend.

"'M fine. It's work. Gotta go." He hung up before giving Duncan a chance to say more. He looked up again to face a steaming Claire Ripley.

* * *

"Why are you looking for my husband?" Claire demanded to know. "And why are there a bunch of people in haze mat suits tearing my house upside down?"

She was towering over him, casting a shadow and making him blink against the light that was framing her. Hardy weighed his words carefully. He wasn't quite willing to tell her the reason but he needed her cooperation. He pocketed his mobile and stood slowly, bracing himself against the vertigo he'd had the entire day.

"Where is he, Claire?" he asked, avoiding answering her questions.

"Why would I tell you? If he finds out that I'm even talking to you, I'm in deep shit." There was a tremble in her voice.

"Then why are you here, hm? Because I think you want us to find him. Am I right?" He was irritated and she could tell. His exhaustion wasn't helping and he was getting tired of her games.

"They kicked me out of my house, Alec," she complained angrily.

Hardy shrugged, not feeling much compassion. "Standard procedure. We have a search warrant."

They stared each other down, a battle of the wills. He resisted the urge to blink and close out the spinning world around him. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold out, but he'd be damned if he gave in first. He didn't need to.

Suddenly, she crumbled. Her body slumped down on the bench and tears were running down her cheeks. It sure wasn't the reaction Hardy had expected. Too much emotion too quickly for it to be genuine, at least in Hardy's opinion. He sat down next to her, glad he didn't have to stand any longer. She covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking with the sobs. It was hard to watch how distressed she was. Maybe he was wrong and she wasn't pretending after all?

"Claire, what happened?" His voice was soft and after a split second of debating with himself, he brushed her elbow with his hand.

She trained her big watery eyes on him, lips quivering. Then she rolled back the sleeve of her blouse. Hardy sucked in some air and stared at the ugly yellow-purple bruises. They formed the shape of fingers. It must have been a vice like grip to leave such marks and Hardy's stomach was heating up with anger.

"Did Lee do this to you?" he asked quietly, failing at keeping his voice neutral.

She nodded and pulled down the sleeve. She cradled the arm and rocked slowly back and forth on the bench. It was painful to watch. Hardy ached to give comfort to this hurt woman, but he had to maintain professional boundaries.

"Why did he do this?"

"He found out I came to see you on Friday. He wanted to know what I said. When I told him it's none of his business he got mad at me," she said, eyes down cast.

"Did he hit you?" Hardy moved closer to her.

She shook her head. "No. I wanted to leave but he didn't let me. Pushed me against a wall and gripped my arm to hold me back." Tears were dripping down her cheeks.

Hardy felt guilty. She had indicated multiple times that her husband might behave violently towards her and Hardy had doubted it all along. Now he couldn't deny it any longer. He was angry at himself, he should have believed her. His hand found its way back onto her arm.

"Claire, you could press charges against him, if you'd like," he suggested gently, knowing she wouldn't.

She just stared ahead, silently.

"Or you could tell me what really happened that night the girls disappeared," he added, fully aware how manipulative this was.

"He'll kill me, if I do," she breathed.

"Not if we have him in custody. Not if he gets convicted and put in prison. Claire, if you have any reason at all to think that he could have murdered those girls, you _have_ _to_ tell me. We can protect you from him. _I_ can protect you," he emphasized.

"He's working in the old manor, the one that's down south." She didn't look at him.

"Darkwood Manor?" he confirmed while pulling out his mobile.

"If that's what it's called," Claire muttered under her breath. Hardy busied himself texting Tess where to find Lee Ashworth, holding his mobile at arm's length, way too distracted to find his glasses. When he looked up, Claire was already fifty yards down the gravel path. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his lunch that he had never touched and hurried after her. By the time he reached her, he was so out of breath, he could barely speak.

"Claire, wait." He latched onto her arm, more to steady himself than to actually hold her back. She flinched and he realized it was the arm with the bruise. He quickly retracted his hand.

"'M sorry. Did I hurt you?" His ears were burning.

"No. It's okay."

"Come to the station with me and make an official statement about what happened that night," he pleaded more than asked. "I promise you, I will take care of you. He won't hurt you again."

"I can't do that. Not as long as he's out there."

"You realize that one of the things that keeps him out of prison is the fact that you said you were with him that night," Hardy argued.

"Arrest him and I'll think about it," Claire stated firmly, all vulnerability gone. She turned and walked away, much too briskly for Hardy to follow. He didn't need to. They were playing games again and she had tossed the ball back into his field. His turn to make a move.

* * *

A/N: So, throughout this process of writing my various stories my google search history has been rather eclectic. Here are just some of the things I've been "researching": a place to have a great wedding somewhere in the southwest of the UK (Cardiff Castle); what movies opened in the week of April 26th in the UK (The Avengers indeed did open then); moon phases in the UK (don't ask why, I got a tad bit obsessive); South Mercia Police force (turns out they don't exists); hacker slang and firewalls (I was worried I'd get blacklisted at some point); forensic hair specimen (a multiple page FBI document is a really boring thing to read, just saying); what other veggie or fruit than bananas have a high potassium content (spinach and avocado for those interested); arrest procedures in the UK (it's complicated, sigh); is digoxin contraindicated in Long QT syndrome (now that was a wild goose chase, I can only tell you); does Glasgow have a river (it does and that made my writer's heart very happy); the exact times of sunset and sundown in the UK southwest coast during May/June of 2014 (because how much time did Alec really spend wandering alone on those cliffs); Scottish boys and girls names, as well as last names (Duncan has a big family); and last but not least endless searches about correct spelling and grammar (and I'm still none the wiser – sigh). My "research" time was further taken up by many very motivated and repeated viewings of Broadchurch S1 and S2, as well as the occasional reference to the printed material. And that had NOTHING to do with ogling DT, ladies and gentlemen, no absolutely not. Also I might have counted out 59 days from Danny's death to find out what exact day Hardy arrested Joe and when he had his cardiac arrest on Briar Cliff. Might have done that more than once, just to be safe. And no, I'm not obsessive-compulsive in any form or way.

And why I added this AN I'm not sure, but I thought I should somehow mention that I didn't just make up Craig's tech babble but those slang words are actually language that's being used by certain people.


	24. CHAPTER 23

**A/N:** As always, thanks to everyone who's reading and commenting. The next chapters should be out faster now that I'm done with October Blues (unless I get distracted with this other little story that's fogging up my brain, sigh). DI Alec Hardy is doing some detecting… a big THANKS to hazelmist for taking all the time to sift through my silly mistakes.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 23**

Almost an hour later they brought in Lee Ashworth. Hardy refrained from lurking impatiently in the booking area. Instead he irritated his staff with pacing aimlessly through CID, fidgeting with files and office supplies on people's desks, pausing now and then to stare at the whiteboard, only to resume his restless journey. They all were used to it and stayed out of his way as much as they could.

DC Swenson had been chosen to be thrown in front of the proverbial wolves. She approached him on one of his breaks in front of the whiteboard.

"Sir, we might have an issue."

When he spun around, he found her red-faced and scowling.

"What is it now?" he snarled.

"The duty solicitor called in sick and his substitute is stuck at court. Lee Ashworth doesn't have his own legal advice, so we –"

"Are you telling me, we can't question him because our solicitor's got the sniffles?" Hardy's voice carried through the whole room and yet again made the chatter stop.

He had to give credit to Swenson, she didn't duck or flinch. She stood her ground, explaining calmly, "I think it might be more serious than the sniffles – his wife called from A&E, because he couldn't call himself. Regardless, the fact remains we don't have anybody. Ashworth entered the station at 13:57 so we can hold him until tomorrow in case we can't produce another solicitor this afternoon."

"Ach, for God's sake, this is ridiculous." Hardy resisted hitting the whiteboard. His team didn't need more unraveling from their boss. He closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers over them.

"You better get on it now and bring me someone who can hold hands with our suspect. Don't make me do it myself, do you hear me?" he pressed through his clenched teeth. He retreated to his office only to be once again welcomed by the feeling of being trapped. He snatched his coat off the hook, made sure he had his phone and pills, and ran off. Halfway out the door, he hollered into Swenson's general direction, "Call me as soon as you have someone."

* * *

His feet carried him to the same place they had twice already on this infuriating day. He stood in front of the bench, trying to calm down.

"DI Hardy?"

Hardy closed his eyes and suppressed an exasperated sigh. He really needed to come up with a different spot to hide. It was clearly too easy to find him here.

"I'm not talking to you, Ms. White," he hissed while turning around.

Karen's smug grin greeted him. "But we've got a deal – I didn't mention the Ashworths and you'll give me an exclusive," she purred.

"You've got nerve. You dragged my family into this after I asked you not to. Do you have any idea what you did? Your wretched colleagues ambushed my daughter and me in front of my house. I swear if they go anywhere near her again, I don't –"

"Ah, look at you. All riled up over protecting your little girl. Aren't you cute?" she piped. Then her eyes narrowed and her expression changed. Gone was the grin and the corners around her mouth hardened.

"You chose, DI Hardy. Work over family. I told you it would be either story – your past or your present – and you asked to protect the present. I upheld the end of my bargain. If you entertain the thought of breaking yours, you might regret it. Who did you arrest today?" Her voice was sharp, devoid of her usual syrupy niceness.

"Are you threatening a police officer?" Hardy countered. He was surprised how calm he sounded, considering he was boiling inside. "Because you might want to think about that. It's a serious offence in case you need a reminder."

"Stop playing games with me. You have nothing to prove any of this. It's my word against yours and who do you think the public will believe? The diligent journalist who's raising questions and trying to find answers that the people want to hear or the secretive detective who has a dark past and can't find the child killer?"

She looked him straight in the eye, confident in her every move. Hardy loathed the truth behind her statement. She was right, nobody would ever listen to his side of the story, unless it was told by one of them.

He let out a deep breath and lowered himself onto the bench. "I can't tell you, not yet," he sighed. "Not until official charges are made. You know that."

She sat down next to him. "I could share my thoughts with you and all you have to do is deny it or stay quiet."

He snorted. "That's not really different from me telling you, is it now?"

She shrugged. "Technically it is."

"I'm not going to do that. Do with me whatever you want. I'll give you an interview when all is said and done. But before then, I won't comment, either way." Hardy was firm on his stance. He couldn't compromise an investigation just to protect his reputation. Slander and lies would come, no matter how much he cooperated or not. It would be naïve to believe the press would ever keep their promises.

"Suit yourself then. I have other sources. And rest assured I'll be the first to knock on your door when you charge Lee Ashworth." Her smug grin met his angry face and it grew wider with her pleasure of showing off.

"If you fuck up the investigation with your sensationalistic reporting, then that's on you Karen," Hardy said coldly. He had nothing else to add. He slowly pushed his body up, using his knees and thigh as a crutch to get to his feet.

Karen tilted her head and looked him up and down, a different type of curiosity mirrored in her eyes. "Are you all right? You look a bit worse for the wear these days."

Hardy was ready for this. She had a sharp eye and it was only a question of time until she would find the opportunity to quiz him about his health.

"Contrary to common belief, we actually put a lot of work into finding the responsible party. I don't know about you, but I haven't had much time to sleep or eat these past weeks. It's a good way to lose a few pounds. You should try it some day. Oh, wait, you can't – it only works if you actually have a conscious to keep you up." He hoped he had put enough sarcasm in his words for her to swallow the lie.

She huffed. "Trying to be witty again? Maybe you should leave that up to the professionals, DI Hardy, and focus your limited abilities on doing your job."

He didn't dignify her comment with an answer and just walked away. As usual her piercing stare bore a hole between his shoulder blades.

* * *

Hardy busied himself getting paperwork in order while they were waiting for the solicitor. At least they had reassurance that one would be available later that day. He had dodged Tess when he came back from the park but the lingering hurt feeling was nagging him. His eyes fell on his phone. He picked it up and pulled up their text messages chain.

He typed _"I'm sorry"_ and then quickly deleted it. Then _"We should talk"._ Again he erased the letters one by one, this time more slowly. He went back to _"I'm sorry"_ but didn't send it. He huddled over the mobile, one hand holding onto it like a life line, the other cupping the back of his head.

A message came in: **I can see you brooding over your phone. Do you want to talk?**

He looked up and found Tess standing in his doorway, smiling shyly at him. He nodded and beckoned her to come in. She closed the door behind her and sat down on his sofa, as far away in the room as she could. Or maybe that was just his interpretation.

There was silence for a few moments and then they both said "I'm sorry," at the same time. Their eyes met for a long time. Then he stood up and took a seat next to her. He hesitantly reached for her hand, afraid she'd pull away. She didn't.

"Tess, I…" He stopped, not knowing how to put his feelings into words. He wasn't any less hurt by what she'd said but the anger had gone. All that was left was sadness over what they had done to each other. He longed for the closeness they used to share but he didn't know how to bridge the ever growing gorge between them. Hanging his head, he studied his thumb that was rubbing over the back of her hand.

"Daisy asked me this morning why we're arguing all the time. I didn't have an answer for her. I don't even have an answer for myself," Hardy began slowly. He didn't really know where he was going with this, but at least he was trying.

"She said that?" Tess sounded surprised and distraught alike.

He nodded, finally looking at her. Her blue eyes were dark and watery. She remained silent.

"We can't do that, fight in front of her. We can't drag her into this, Tess. Please?" he pleaded with her, voice cracking. It was her turn to nod.

"Alec, I need to –"

His door flew open without a knock and Swenson burst into the room. When she saw the two on the sofa, Hardy holding his wife's hand, both with tears in their eyes, she couldn't hold herself back and muttered, "Fuck, I did it again, didn't I?"

Hardy let go of Tess' hand when Tess stood abruptly. He dragged his fingers down his face, scrubbing away whatever tears there might have been.

"Yup, you sure did," he sighed while watching her face take on a crimson shade. "What is it this time, Swenson? It better be good."

"The solicitor is here," she announced.

Hardy jumped to his feet and rushed out of his office. Swenson moaned when he almost knocked the wind out of her, pushing past her at the door. He was vaguely aware that Tess was following him. His heart rate was up and by the time he reached the elevator to go down to the interrogation rooms, he was feeling lightheaded. Tess was right behind, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Alec, are you up for this? You look a bit pale," she asked quietly, making sure he was the only one who could hear her. His hand closed around the pills in his pocket. The elevator door opened and they both stepped in. They were alone and he weighed his options. He needed to take his medication, even if it was only to be on the safe side, but he wasn't sure how she would react. This was not the moment he wanted to listen to another lecture about his health.

"You should take your pills, if you need to. I'm not going to hold you back or prevent you from questioning Ashworth. You should finish what you started." Her blue eyes encouraged him and the corner of his mouth curled up.

"Thanks, love." He quickly pulled out the blister pack and dry swallowed two tablets before the elevator doors opened. They stepped out together, ready to take on Lee Ashworth.

* * *

Lee Ashworth didn't look at them, when they entered. He was wearing the white overalls he had been handed after being booked. His face was impassive and he stared ahead, hands firmly planted on his thighs.

Hardy sat down opposite him and took his time to arrange the case file and tape recorder. Ashworth still didn't make a move.

"Start of interview of the suspect Lee Ashworth. Time is 4:07 P.M., on Monday April 30th 2012. Present are DI Alec Hardy, DS Theresa Henchard, the suspect Lee Ashworth and his solicitor…" – he squinted at the sticky note that Swenson had handed to him – "Geoffrey Wilson."

Hardy paused briefly and glanced at Tess. She nodded ever so slightly. "Mr. Ashworth you have been cautioned upon time of arrest, however for the sake of the tape, we will go over everything again. Lee Ashworth, you have been arrested on the suspicion of the murder of Pippa Gillespie on April 14th 2012 and in connection with the unlawful disappearance of Lisa Newbery on the same day. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"

Ashworth stayed mute until a deathly glare from Hardy sprung his solicitor into action. He bent toward his client and whispered something in his ear.

Ashworth moved in his chair and growled, "I do." Then he crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared Hardy down.

Hardy wasn't impressed. He'd been in this position too many times for it to be in any way intimidating. He contemplated his first move and decided to cut to the chase right from the start.

"Mr. Ashworth, previously you have stated that you have no connection to Pippa Gillespie. However, we have found evidence that you have been in her bedroom, a fact that you deny. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Lee huffed. "I told you before. I have nothing to do with any of this. I've never been in Pippa's bedroom."

"And how do you explain that we found your hair on her pillow?"

"Why don't you ask Ricky Gillespie? Maybe he put it there."

"Mr. Ashworth, what motive would the father of the murdered girl have to put your hair on his daughter's pillow?" Hardy countered.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him? Have you brought him in for questioning yet? Or are you totally fixated on me?" Ashworth snapped at Hardy, leaning in closer. His solicitor put a steadying hand on him and he seemed to relax.

"What was your relationship with Pippa?" Tess chimed in.

"I didn't have a _'relationship'_ with Pippa. I used to drive her to school and other activities. Everything else is a figment of your depraved mind," Ashworth sneered at Tess.

"How about Lisa then? Her mother thinks you were flirting with her," Hardy quickly followed, leaning forward and placing his hand on the file folder.

"What's your obsession with me having a thing for teenagers? I've told you several times already, I've never had a relationship with Lisa."

"Where's Lisa, Mr. Ashworth?" Tess added before Ashworth could take a breath.

"I have no knowledge of her whereabouts. I haven't seen her since that weekend – " Ashworth suddenly stopped.

"Oh, so you did see her the day she disappeared?" Hardy's eyes didn't leave Ashworth's face.

Ashworth didn't reply.

"If I were you, I would very carefully consider this answer," Hardy said quietly.

Ashworth's solicitor pulled his client over and they had a quick whispered debate. Hardy leaned back in his chair and stole a glance at his wife. She was focused on the task and didn't notice his smile. He loved watching her work.

Ashworth cleared his throat. "I saw her briefly when I came home. She was just arriving at the Gillespie house to babysit Pippa that night. We said hello and that was it. I haven't seen her since then."

"What time was that?" Tess asked.

Ashworth seemed to contemplate his reply. "I think around five o'clock. Give or take fifteen minutes. As I said, around the time I reached home." This was consistent with his previous statements, although he'd never mentioned that he had actually talked to Lisa.

"Pippa writes in her diary that she liked spending time with you, especially on outings with her parents. That's a bit more than just driving her to school, wouldn't you say so?" Hardy changed topic again.

"I'm not going to dignify any of these accusations with a response."

"Fine. It's your prerogative not to answer. Where were you on the evening of April 14th?"

"At home. Having dinner with my wife. And before you get into that again, we had steak and potatoes and then we watched telly together," Ashworth said mockingly.

Hardy's lips curled up in a cold smile. He leaned in and let his long fingers rest on the table. "Is that so, Mr. Ashworth? We have reason to believe that you're lying about this. That in fact your wife followed through with her original plans of wanting to go out for dinner."

Maybe it was in his imagination, but Hardy could have sworn Ashworth paled and was breathing faster. Tess moved in her chair and Hardy felt reassured in his suspicion. She must have noticed it too.

Ashworth didn't say a word. Eventually, Hardy had enough.

"Lee? Do you want to answer that question?" he prompted him sharply.

Ashworth's solicitor pulled him close and after another brief back and forth, he let them know that his client preferred not to comment.

Tess used the pause in the flow of the interview to push over a photograph of a smiling Pippa.

"Have you seen this pendant before?" Tess pointed at the small piece of silver jewelry around Pippa's neck.

Ashworth looked puzzled. Then he took a closer look and his expression changed.

"Maybe. I'm not sure. It looks familiar enough." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

"Have you been to Portsmouth recently?" Tess continued with all their unanswered questions.

"Never been there. Why?" Ashworth seemed genuinely confused.

"Have you ever noted any one loitering on the estate?"

There was a brief hesitation. "No, I haven't. Heard some people mention something though. That's all I know."

Ashworth seemed sufficiently at ease for Hardy to take over from Tess. They were a good team in the interrogation room, often seamlessly picking up where the other had left off or led them to.

"Did you kill Pippa Gillespie?" Hardy's voice was low and neutral. It was a question that he had to pose even if he was sure that Ashworth would deny it.

"No, I did not." It sounded convincing enough.

"Did you have anything to do with Lisa's disappearance?" Hardy went down the list.

"No." Ashworth was more animated now.

"Did you kill Lisa Newbery?" The next check box.

"Absolutely not," Ashworth snarled at him, surprisingly emotional.

"Who do you think did?" Hardy asked on a whim.

This time Ashworth's face definitively went pale. He pressed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest again. It took him a few seconds to compose himself.

"No comment," he eventually replied.

And that was the last they were able to get out of Ashworth that afternoon. No matter how differently they tried their questions, he stayed mute until Hardy had enough. It wasn't going to take them any further.

"Interview terminated at 5:38 P.M. Lee Ashworth remains in custody of South Mercia Police constabulary and will be escorted to the holding area."

Hardy got up slowly, pushing himself off the back of his chair. He was exhausted, but hoped the people around him wouldn't notice. Tess took the tapes and accompanied Ashworth out of the room. The solicitor couldn't leave fast enough. Hardy collected the file folder. A photograph slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Pippa's beautiful face smiled at him. He slowly stooped down and stared at the girl's features. His finger's brushed lightly over the photo. Then he picked it up, fished out his wallet and placed the picture carefully inside. He closed the wallet gently and pocketed it, his hand resting over it. Whatever it would take, he would get justice for her and not rest until it was all said and done. And then the girl in the photo and her ghost would be able to find peace.

* * *

Hardy returned to his office. It was probably time to go home, but he couldn't shake his restlessness yet and so he stayed. Tess and Thompson were dealing with the arrest paperwork. The tapes for the interrogation wouldn't be transcribed until tomorrow to be presented to CPS together with all their evidence against Lee Ashworth. He wasn't sure if they had enough to charge him or not. Claire Ripley's missing statement didn't help. He wished he could have convinced her today that she needed to tell him what happened that night.

He was nibbling on the forgotten lunch that Daisy had packed him. Better than no dinner at all. Swenson had left the records from Ashworth's booking process on his desk. He glanced over them briefly and then moved on to meticulously documenting his encounter with Claire, as well as his statement about Ashworth's interview. They would be able to hold him for twenty-four hours, maybe thirty-six if CPS was so inclined until they either had to charge him with an offence or let him go.

CID was almost empty and it was dark outside by the time he had finished his paperwork. Tess had left her desk. He had no idea when and he was disappointed that he had missed her. He leaned back on his chair and let his eyes close for a moment. It had taken them a bit over two weeks to make an arrest. Considering the circumstantial nature of their evidence it was surprising they had a suspect at all, let alone that CPS went for an arrest warrant. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly while stretching his cramped up legs. When he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on the folder with booking proceedings again. He grabbed the papers and dragged himself to his sofa.

He knew it probably wouldn't end well, if he migrated over there, but his body was too tired to hunch at the desk any longer. He laid down and allowed himself to relax his tense muscles for a few minutes before he started to read through the report. Everything seemed pretty standard and handled properly. He scanned the list with Ashworth's belongings – wallet with credit cards, bank card, twenty-three pounds and various papers; a small Swiss army knife; house keys; a mobile phone; sun glasses; his tools for work and a tool belt; jeans, T-shirt, work boots – nothing stood out. He read over the list again. Something was bugging him but he couldn't put his finger on it. He stifled a yawn and tried to keep his eyes open. It was time to go home. The thought of having to wait for a taxi because he didn't have his car was irritating him. He dragged himself up and trudged over to his desk to make the call. He played absentmindedly with his now useless car keys while he waited impatiently for someone to pick up on the other side until sudden realization struck him.

 _The car keys_. Ashworth had no car keys on him when he was arrested. Hardy hung up the phone before he got connected and rushed back to the list with the belongings. It confirmed what he was thinking. Only house keys, nothing else. Hardy was sure he had read somewhere that Ashworth owned a car. He frantically searched through his notes and the file. There it was. Lee's license plate number and Claire's. They each had their own vehicle. If Ashworth had his own car, where were the keys? And even more important, where was the car?

He almost threw something at the screen of his computer because it seemed to take an eternity for the traffic police database to load. He needed to check the license and registration to verify ownership.

"Come on, come on, come on," he muttered between clenched teeth, while impatiently moving the mouse around. Once he had reached the correct site he punched in the number. When he saw the result, he jumped up, toppling over his chair. Ashworth had reported his car as sold three days after the murder.

In his hurry to get to his phone he knocked it off his desk and by the time he finally got the traffic division on the line, his heart was letting him know he needed to calm down. He barely could hold onto the receiver as his hands were starting to feel numb. He quickly popped two of his pills and proceeded to report his findings to the sergeant in charge. A search warrant was put out immediately. When he hung up the phone, the tension was falling off of him and he could feel all energy leaving him. Fortunately, he was already sitting on the floor after retrieving his phone from under his desk. He closed his eyes and waited for the medication to do its job, taking care to breathe in and out in a controlled fashion. Once he felt strong enough to get up he dragged himself to the sofa and collapsed onto it. Exhaustion was drowning everything out and he gave in.

* * *

"Alec? Wake up."

Tess voice filtered through his sleepy mind. He forced his eyes open. She was hovering over him. He sucked in some air and pulled himself into a sitting position. His neck was stiff and his chest ached.

"What're you doing here?" he slurred his words.

"I was finishing the arrest paperwork when I saw light in your office. Why are you not home yet?"

"The keys. There were no keys. The car –" he tried to explain but she interrupted him.

"Alec, you're not making any sense. I better get you out of here. I thought you'd be gone by now so I told Daisy to come home instead of staying at her friend's house."

Hardy frowned. "She's by herself?" That thought woke him up quickly and he struggled to his feet. He had to hold on to Tess for a moment to overcome the spinning sensation that came with the sudden change in position.

"Jeez. Are you all right? Are you not feeling well?" she questioned him.

"'M fine. Only a head rush. Don't look at me like that. It's not the heart," he lied smoothly, releasing her shoulder.

"If you say so. Were you talking about your car just now? You never told me where it is. I should probably go and pick it up. Dave could take me and I can leave my car here."

"Dave's still here?" Hardy wondered out loud.

"Yup. We were finishing up together," she hurried to explain.

"Oh." It was still confusing to Hardy why both had to stay late and take care of the paperwork that could easily be done by one person.

"So, where is the car then? I'll get it on my way home and I'll get a taxi in the morning. I'm scheduled for the early shift."

"Two streets away from Daisy's school, on Hickory Road." He handed her his keys, his eyes lingering on them.

"Ashworth didn't have his car keys on him when you made the arrest," he stated quietly.

"So?" Tess wasn't paying attention, fidgeting with attaching his keys to hers.

"He had sold his car three days after the murder," he continued. When her head snapped up and she met his eyes, his lips slowly curled into a broad grin.

"Oh my God, you're brilliant!" She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Surprised by the sudden onslaught of affection, he lost balance and fell backwards on the sofa, pulling her down with him. She landed on his chest, her face less than an inch from his. He moved lightly towards her, wanting to kiss her so badly that it hurt. She quickly scrambled off of him, before he could free his arms from under her body and hold her back. She must have seen his confused face, because she shot him a shy smile and took the hand he was holding out for her.

"Alec, I –" she hesitated.

"What, love?" He pulled her down on his lap and wrapped his arms around her

"Ah, never mind. We can talk about it tomorrow." She wiggled out of his embrace. "We need to get you home so that Daisy isn't all by herself. She's probably wondering if we abandoned her." Before he could say anything she was already on the phone calling a taxi and was ushering him out of his office. Ten minutes later he found himself in the back of a car without even having had the chance to kiss her goodnight.

* * *

"Sir. Sir! Wake up. Please."

Hardy's conscious was pulled back from drowning by a pleading, scared voice that was yelling in his ear. He tried to speak but all he could do was cough. After the shortness of breath subsided and his body had calmed down, he was finally able to take in his surroundings.

The taxi driver was leaning into the back seat through the open door. The inside of the car was lit up by the red and white neon light of the A&E sign. Hardy moaned at the sight and glared at the man.

"This is not my house," he growled.

"Sir, I thought you were having a heart attack or something and as we were rather close to the hospital I brought you here." In his defense, the driver sounded genuinely worried and Hardy couldn't even fault him for it.

"'M fine. Just a nightmare. Sorry I fell asleep," Hardy explained.

"Are you sure about that? I have a cousin who gets these heart spells and he –"

A piercing glance shut the man up. "I'm not your cousin. Can you take me home now, please?" Hardy added, forcing himself to be more civil.

"I really think you should get checked out. You don't look well, if you don't mind me saying," the driver insisted. "I see a lot of people and you look like someone who's going to pass out any moment." The driver held the door open for him and gestured towards the A&E entrance. A security guard was watching the spectacle with a bored face. Hardy didn't know why tonight of all nights he was cursed with a taxi driver who felt the urge to develop a Samaritan streak.

"Listen, I appreciate your concern, seriously. But I don't need to go in there. Not tonight."

A skeptic frown was etched onto the man's face. Hardy looked the man in the eye and all he could see was genuine concern. Hardy sat up straighter, took in a deep breath and stopped fighting it.

"Trust me, I've been worse," he admitted. The driver's expression changed and he smiled sadly at Hardy.

"It ain't easy if you've a got a health thing, is it? The people who know are always too concerned and the ones who don't know think you're just an arse when you're ill. I got kidney failure, from diabetes. Every time I look funny my wife freaks out on me. And my buddies at work get upset if I miss a day at work when I don't feel well," the driver said, eyes lost somewhere in his own world. Then he focused his attention back on Hardy. "If you tell me, you think you're well enough to go home, I'll take you there."

Hardy closed his eyes for a moment and sincerely considered what the man had said. His heart had settled down and so had the vertigo. He felt drained but then he had felt like that the whole day. Daisy was waiting for him at home and that thought alone helped to ease the pressure inside.

He opened his eyes. "I think, I'm all right. As I said, I've had worse moments and it's already getting better. I just want to go home. Sleep in my own bed, not in the hospital. Be with my daughter." Hardy was rattled by the desperation in his own voice.

The driver nodded and smiled again. "I hear you there. Every time you don't have to go in is like a small victory, isn't it?" He got back into the front seat and they drove to Hardy's house in silence.

Hardy paid. He felt awkward about it but still added a handsome tip. He didn't want the driver to believe he didn't appreciate what he'd done. Money seemed too profane to express his gratitude.

"What's your name?" Hardy asked when the man came around and opened the door for him.

"Charles," the man answered with a surprised look on his face.

Hardy held out his hand. When Charles took it, he said with as much sincerity as he could put in his voice, "Thank you, Charles. For caring and understanding." Hardy smiled at him.

Charles gave Hardy's hand a tight squeeze. "You're very welcome. Make sure not to be too hard on yourself. And let people help you. I used to forget that part, didn't do me any good." He nodded and smiled. Then he climbed back into the car and drove off into the night.

Hardy stood and watched him leave.

"Dad?" Daisy's voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

"What are you doing out here? Come inside, it's cold. Mum called me to make sure that you go to bed when you come home."

Hardy was about to grumpily tell her he didn't need a babysitter, when he saw her worried face. _'Let people help you'_ – Charles' words echoed through his mind. There was a truth to them that he shouldn't ignore any longer. And instead of rejecting his family's concern yet again, he nodded, followed Daisy inside and let her take him to bed. He struggled with all the emotions that giving in to accepting help evoked in him, but the moment before he fell asleep, right after Daisy had kissed him goodnight and turned off the light, he felt comforted and secure for the first time since he learned about his illness. He hoped that Charles felt the same.


	25. CHAPTER 24

**A/N:** This chapter is a bit longer than most others, I had my reasons, so please bear with me. It's dear to my heart and it might tug on yours, my kind readers. And I truly hope you won't feel it's too much or that I've gone off the deep end. It's Tuesday, Day 17 of the investigation…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 24**

Hardy woke screaming. He was alone in the bed. His sheets were soaked and so was he. The horror he had just lived through was making him shake and as usual he struggled to breathe, despite his heart holding up surprisingly well. He hurried to get up, needing to leave the place of his nightmares, even if that didn't seem logical. Besides, the dreams would follow him regardless of how far he'd run.

He rushed through the shower, unable to find the usual comfort in the routine. Daisy was already in the kitchen, when he got there. She placed a mug of tea in front of him, smiling, but keeping to herself until he drank at least half of it. He silently thanked her for humoring his grouchy morning demeanor. He checked the time on his phone and wished he hadn't. There were several texts and two voice mails from work.

After reading all of them and listening to DC Swenson's frustrated messages, he had had enough of the day already. They had questioned Ashworth about the car as soon as the solicitor had been available, but Ashworth refused to give them any information. The address of the new owner was outdated and they had no current information on that person. The traffic division hadn't had any luck so far and the review of CCTV hadn't yielded any trace of the vehicle. SOCO had found nothing of significance in the Ashworth house and they were running out of time before they either needed to charge Ashworth or had to let him go.

He tossed his mobile on the table with an angry grunt. "Fuck," he mumbled.

"Dad, language," Daisy piped from the sink where she was doing the dishes.

"Oh, please, don't give me this shit right now," he blurted out before he could hold himself back. He looked up to find a shocked Daisy, frozen in the middle of the kitchen. He immediately regretted his tone and choice of words, but what had been said was said. He stood and took a step towards her. She shied away.

"I'm sorry, darlin'. That was not okay," he apologized.

"No, it wasn't. It was mean. I was just joking," she replied, the hurt in her voice unmistakable.

Rubbing at his face, he sat down again. He very rarely lost his temper with Daisy and certainly not over something like this. Clasping his hands on the table, he stared at the wooden surface. He didn't even know what to say.

Daisy pulled out a chair opposite him. He didn't dare look at her. "It's all right, Dad. You're stressed out."

He felt awful that she had to come up with an excuse for him. Sometimes, he was such a failure as a parent.

His damn mobile buzzed again and he snatched it up. It was another message from Swenson in regards to the car. They had a suspicion that the new owner might have left the country with it. _For fuck's sake._

"Dad, can I talk to you about something?" she asked shyly. Hardy's head snapped up. He had been miles away.

"Sure, Daisy," he said absentmindedly, nervously playing with the phone in his hands. If they couldn't find the car, then they had no avenue left to pursue. His only chance of getting Ashworth charged was if Claire Ripley revoked his alibi.

"Dad? Are you listening?" Daisy's angry voice broke into his thoughts.

 _Bollocks_. He had no idea what she had been talking about. He blinked and focused his attention on her. It was too late. She abruptly pushed back her chair and walked out of the room without another word. Not fast enough though that he didn't notice her scowl and her watery eyes. He hurried after her, catching her at the door when she was leaving.

"Daisy, please. I'm sorry I was distracted. What is it that you wanted to talk about?" He tried to make peace.

"Why do you even care? All this time you haven't been listening," she spewed at him furiously. Her face was red and her eyes glittered with angry tears.

"Daisy, of course I care about you." He stepped closer and reached for her arm. She pushed his hand away.

"Don't you dare think you can just hug it out. That's not good enough. You haven't been paying attention to me or Mum for a long time and I'm fed up with it. Leave me alone!" she shouted and slammed the door in his face.

Hardy stared at it. He had no idea for how long. Daisy's words had cut deep. They left a wound in his already ailing heart that he didn't know how to tend to. And what made things worse was that she was right. He hadn't been paying attention, not in the past weeks. He had barely seen her. Or Tess, unless it was at work.

Eventually, he turned around, found his things, put on his coat and left his house behind, unable to shake the feeling that he had made himself unwelcome in the only place he always thought he'd be able to call home. His family.

* * *

The morning brief was torture. Hardy was still on edge, like he had been since he woke up. The argument with his daughter had left a bad taste in his mouth. He let Tess and Thompson take the lead as they had handled the arrest and the search of Ashworth's house. His only contribution was to emphasize the importance of finding the missing car.

Not unexpectedly, Baxter showed up in Hardy's office not even five minutes after they finished, dragging Tess and Thompson along with him. They all crowded into his small space and he felt cornered by their presence.

"I was able to convince CPS to give us forty-eight hours to charge Ashworth but no more than that," Baxter opened the discussion.

"He's not going to confess anything," Tess sighed. "This morning he even refused to acknowledge that he ever had a car."

"How about the search of his house? Did SOCO turn anything up?" Baxter asked Thompson.

"Their final report is still outstanding, but so far what they can tell from running some DNA samples overnight they only found traces from Claire and Lee. They commented on how clean the house was."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tess asked. "Since when does SOCO judge the cleanliness of a home?"

"I assume they are referring to areas where people normally don't clean frequently? Such as door surfaces, behind furniture, under rugs? Indicating that someone might have scrubbed down the house not so long ago which could imply a thorough erasing of traces after a crime is committed. Am I correct?" Hardy interjected without much energy. He stifled a yawn. His heart was beating slowly again and it made him drowsy.

Both Tess and Baxter's heads turned around and their eyes bore into him. Tess was annoyed, but there was something else in Baxter's gaze. Hardy was too tired to care about either one of them.

"Yes, sir. That's exactly what they said. So far they haven't found any traces of either Pippa's or Lisa's DNA at the Ashworth home. We know for sure though that at least Pippa was a frequent visitor at her neighbor's. Considering that we did find DNA all over the house, but not the girl's, this is surprising. There should have been some, just as much as we have traces of Lee's and Claires' DNA at the Gillespie house."

"But it doesn't prove anything," Hardy sighed. His mind was foggy and he wished he'd had the energy to walk about. His gaze wandered up to the ceiling tile while he leaned back in his chair.

"So, do we think then that Lee killed at least one of the girls in his house, if not both, and disposed of both bodies in two different areas - one of which we still have no idea where, mind you – and then scrubbed down his house? And all of this without his wife knowing or noticing any of it?" Hardy summarized his thoughts.

When Hardy posed it that way all four of them went mute. It sounded so unlikely. Hardy swiveled back and forth in his chair, trying to force his sluggish brain to think. They were missing something but nobody could put their finger on it.

"Claire followed me to the park yesterday. She –"

"She did what?" Tess exclaimed, annoyance dripping off of her words.

"She followed you?" Baxter said at the same time, but his voice reflected instant worry.

Hardy looked from one to the other and frowned. "Can I maybe finish my sentence? I don't know for sure, but she showed up in the park. The only way I can think of how she knew where I was is if she followed me."

"She'd better stay away from you," Tess hissed.

Hardy huffed. "Tess, please don't be silly. She could be our key witness and there is no reason to believe anything else."

"That might well be, Alec, but if she's stalking you, that should raise some concern. Even you have to admit that," Baxter reasoned.

Hardy tried to focus on his boss. His vision had gone blurry a few minutes ago and he had a hard time resisting the urge to blink repeatedly or shake his head.

"Lee hurt her," Hardy cut to the chase, tired of the discussion about Claire's behavior. "She said she won't come forward until he is in custody. I'm almost certain that she wasn't home with him."

"Ach, she told you that lie again?" Tess spat.

"No, Tess. It's not a lie. I saw the bruises," he replied between clenched teeth. He still felt guilty about not taking Claire more seriously.

"Then she should press charges," Tess stated, pulling up an eyebrow.

"She's not going to do that. She's afraid. Wouldn't you be?" Hardy asked softly.

"I don't have a husband who's a child killer and beats women," Tess snapped back.

Thompson sighed and Tess spun around. Her eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you on his side now as well?" she growled.

Thompson turned red in his face and dropped his gaze. Tess glared at him and then stormed out of the room. The three men looked at each other. Neither one of them spoke a word until Baxter broke the awkward silence.

"Right." He took in a deep breath and let it out. "We have about a day until we have to release Ashworth. Thompson, why don't you follow up on the forensics report and light a fire under the traffic division to find that car," he ordered the DS.

Thompson acknowledged his boss with a nod and made haste to leave Hardy's office. Baxter stayed behind.

"What was that about? Tess, I mean," Baxter asked Hardy as soon as the door had closed.

Hardy sighed deeply. "She thinks I've been flirting with Claire Ripley and that the woman is after me."

Baxter tilted his head. "And? Have you?"

Hardy snorted. "Seriously? I'm not even going to answer that question."

"What about Claire then? _Is_ she following you around?" Again, there was concern in Baxter's voice.

Hardy shook his head slowly. "As I said before, I think she's playing games with me, but I don't think she's stalking me. She seemed genuinely scared and the bruises were certainly a sign of violent behavior towards her." He paused and then sighed, "I should have believed her."

"Be careful, Alec. Don't get caught up in something that you can't control," Baxter cautioned him.

Hardy hummed in agreement and got up. He needed to talk to the families, now that they had arrested a suspect. Maybe they could shed some light on some of their questions. He absentmindedly tugged on his trousers. They had slid down when he stood.

"Alec, how much weight have you lost?" Baxter asked gently. Hardy stopped, only now becoming aware of his hands on his belt. When he turned to face Baxter, they trembled ever so slightly, before he could hide them in his pockets.

Baxter's eyes mirrored the worry that his words had carried and it was almost too much to bear for Hardy. He ran his tongue over his teeth and ducked his head.

"Not sure. Enough for you to notice, I guess," he said barely audible.

Baxter stood up and placed his hand on Hardy's shoulder. "You know I really want to get this bastard for what he did to those girls. But just as much I want this to be over so that you can heal." He smiled sadly at Hardy and then hurried out of the room. Hardy stood there for a long time. Eventually, he took in a deep breath and forced himself to go on.

* * *

Hardy decided to go see Marilyn Newbery before dealing with the Gillespies. The house appeared greyer than when he came there for the first time. The tulips had wilted and their heads were hanging low in the small flower patch. He noted that dark purple pansies and bright blue forget-me-nots had been added. He was staring at them lost in his own imagery of bluebells and dead children, when the door opened.

"They were Lisa's favorites," Marilyn quietly cut into his meandering thoughts. "She never liked the tulips, too much red and pink, she used to say."

Hardy looked up to meet her watery blue eyes. He blond hair was untidily flowing around her face that was gaunter than two weeks ago. It made her look younger and even more like her missing child.

"May I come in? I'd like to talk to you about something."

Her eyes widened, but she moved to make room for him, not saying a word. She took him to the kitchen again and they sat in the same chairs as the last time. The house was dead silent besides the ticking of the wall clock over the stove.

"We've arrested a suspect," Hardy stated with a hushed voice, as if he didn't want to break the quiet.

"Who?" Marilyn whispered, kneading her trembling hands together.

Hardy hesitated. As they had not officially charged Ashworth, he was not supposed to reveal his identity.

"We haven't charged him yet, so I'm not really supposed to say anything." Marilyn's tearful eyes were hanging on his lips, hoping for him to tell her who changed her life forever.

"I understand," she mumbled, casting her gaze down.

Hardy didn't have it in him to stay silent. _To hell with protocol,_ he thought _._ This was wrong, she deserved to know.

"It's Lee Ashworth."

She covered her mouth with her hand, the other balled into a fist, and looked away. When she turned her eyes back to him, they were dark blue-grey storm clouds and her expression had hardened.

"Did he kill Pippa?" Her voice carried the same anger as her face.

"We have reason to believe so," Hardy replied softly.

"Who does something like this? Kill a child. I don't understand. Did he say why?"

"I can't tell you. I'm sorry." He felt awful for not sharing but then even if he did, there weren't any answers.

Her eyes bore into him and her voice trembled with her next question. "And Lisa?"

"He denies everything," Hardy revealed before he could hold himself back. Marilyn hit the table with her flat hand and Hardy jumped. He didn't expect the outburst. His heart tripped up over the sudden scare, suddenly slowing down to what seemed almost a halt. Marilyn's face swam out of focus. He took in a few deep breaths, waiting for the moment to pass.

"You didn't find her." It was not a question, but an affirmation of the facts.

Hardy shook his head, holding on tightly to the edge of the table.

"And you don't think you will." Her voice was toneless, devoid of any emotion.

"We won't stop searching though," Hardy promised, catching her eyes with his. She tilted her head and put her hand on his arm.

"You look like you might have to," she said not without kindness.

"What?" he moaned, confused and rubbing his chest. His heavy head came up to be greeted by the clock over the stove spinning around him together with the rest of the room. Marilyn's blurry face moved farther and farther away in his tunneled vision until he was surrounded by only blackness.

The next thing he became aware of was the cold floor tiles under his body and Marilyn's worried voice filtering through.

"DI Hardy? Can you hear me?" She was shouting in his ear and he groaned a response.

"Can you talk?"

"'Course I can," he slurred his words while he was trying to pick himself up from the floor. She helped him into a sitting position. Hardy slumped against the kitchen cabinets, breathing heavily. His hands searched through his pockets and produced the pills. Marilyn stood and handed him a glass of water, not letting him out of her sight. He swallowed them down and leaned his head against the wood, closing his eyes.

"You didn't call an ambulance, did you?" he finally managed to say after it became easier to breathe. He was watching her through half-opened eyes.

"No, but I almost did. You scared the shit out of me. Your face went grey and then you fell on the floor, out cold. I was about to call 999 when you woke up." She sounded flustered, but more so concerned.

"'M sorry that I scared you. Wasn't my intention." Something was nagging his mind. "What did you say before I…" – he swallowed, stumbling over the word – "… passed out."

She huffed. "I said, that you look like you would have to stop looking for Lisa. I guess I was right about that."

Hardy was still too sluggish to comprehend the meaning of her words. "I don't understand. We're not going to –"

"No, DI Hardy. I wasn't talking about you as in the police force." She bent down to pick up the glass he'd put on the floor. When she sat up again, she continued with a soft voice.

"I was talking about you as a person. I was thinking that you look ill and exhausted." Her eyebrow went up. "And then you fell off my kitchen chair," Marilyn added with a hint of sarcasm.

"Point taken," Hardy scoffed. He struggled to his feet, hands climbing up his legs. She stood and her hand hovered close to his arm but she didn't touch him. He realized that there was a question on her face.

"Go ahead, ask," he growled, dreading what she might want to know about his health. She surprised him.

"Are you going to finish this case? Because I don't think the others could," she said, the sharpness in her voice echoing with the fury that she had buried inside. Her blue eyes shot him a piercing glance, reflecting the flare of the otherwise well-hidden emotion.

His hands were holding on tightly to the back of a chair, knuckles turning white. "I promised you, didn't I?" he said in between two shuddering breaths.

"Can you though?" she added doubtfully.

"We're almost there, Marilyn. I'll see it through to the end," he vowed, hoping he wasn't a liar.

She stepped up to him and this time she did put her hand on his arm. She looked up and found his eyes. "And then you'll take care of yourself. Promise me that too."

He nodded, too choked up to be able to talk. She called him a taxi and they waited in silence at her door step. When the car came, his eyes fell on the forget-me-nots again.

"We'll find her. So that she can be remembered properly, with her favorite flowers watching over her." He squeezed Marilyn's hand, nodding in reassurance. He resisted the urge to wipe away her tears. Instead he turned and slowly walked away, hoping with his whole soul that the next time he saw her, he could bring her peace.

* * *

Hardy slumped in the back seat of the cab. The conversation with Marilyn had left him drained and he longed for the comfort of his home. He closed his eyes when the painful memory of the fight with Daisy surfaced. He wasn't that far from Daisy's school. Maybe he could catch her on her lunch break and apologize. Without hesitation he ordered the driver to change direction and found himself half a block from the school gate five minutes later.

He was reluctant to walk up closer, well aware of how touchy Daisy was about him picking her up. Students started to trickle out of the gate and he recognized a few of Daisy's classmates. Hardy finally found the courage to approach the gate when he noted Daisy leaving together with her friend Molly. They were laughing and a smile played around Hardy's lips, watching his child being happy. They were walking in the opposite direction, not noticing him. He tried not to feel like a stalker when he followed them slowly down the street.

Molly said something to Daisy and was rewarded with a smack on the arm and more laughter. Daisy suddenly stopped, patting down her body. She pulled out her mobile and answered it. A brief conversation ensued and Daisy started looking around. Hardy mimicked her motions and came to a prompt halt. Daisy had spotted who she was looking for. She hung up the phone and ran towards Tess, throwing herself into her mother's arm. Judging from Tess' tight embrace and her stroking Daisy's hair, Hardy was certain that Daisy was crying. He had no doubt that he was the reason behind those tears.

Tess was talking quietly into her daughter's ear. Then she pressed a kiss on her head before releasing her. She put her arm around her shoulders and Daisy rested her head against her side. Hardy's heart was heavy. He had brought pain to his daughter with his impatient outburst and inattentive behavior. There were no excuses for it and the guilt was forming a hot knot inside his stomach.

He watched them walk away, entwined and finding solace in each other from sorrow that he had caused. And despite feeling consoled by the thought that Daisy had found comfort in her mother's arms, he had never quite felt as lonely as when he turned his back on them and left them behind.

* * *

The SOCO van was yet again parked in front of the house, but this time the people in the white overalls walked in and out of the Ashworth residence. Hardy briefly acknowledged his colleagues. Thompson who was coordinating the efforts didn't have anything to report and there was no news from the car search either. Hardy sighed and trudged over to the Gillespies' entrance.

Cate opened the door and basically dragged him inside.

"What the hell is going on? Why doesn't anyone talk to us?" she demanded to know. Hardy was slightly thrown off balance by her and tipped against the wall. He rested his head against the cool plaster for a brief moment, breathing deeply. He could get through this conversation, just like he had waded through everything else this day so far – stubbornly ignoring all the emotions, pains and heart ache, and keeping on moving. If he stopped, he knew he wouldn't be able to go on.

"Cate, can we sit somewhere?" He didn't trust his legs and he wasn't keen on making acquaintance with Cate's floor like he had with Marilyn's.

Cate took him into the living room. She swiftly swooped up her wine glass and gestured to the sofa with it. He lowered himself on the cushion and waited for her to do the same. She didn't. Instead, she paced up and down, swirling the wine in the large round glass. Her movement made him dizzy and he settled on resting his eyes on a photograph of Pippa.

"Is Ricky here?" he began his talk.

"No. He's out working. Each their own distraction, right?" She let out a short nervous laughter. She stopped in front of him and looked down.

"Why are you searching Claire and Lee's house?" Her voice was trembling.

"We're looking for evidence." He should give her the same courtesy that he had granted Marilyn. "We've arrested Lee Ashworth as a suspect in connection with Pippa's murder."

The wine glass shattered against the wall right next to him. Hardy jumped like he had in Marilyn's house and like before his heart stumbled but recovered fast enough before he could pass out. He shot a quick glance at Cate who was standing in front of him, breathing heavily and clenching her fists. He carefully moved away from the glass shards and wiped at his face and coat that were both doused in wine. It didn't do much good and he gave up as soon as he had started.

"Is she in it, too?" Cate hissed, still shaking with anger.

"I assume by 'she' you mean Claire?" Hardy clarified. A piercing stare was answer enough.

"I can't tell you any details, we haven't even charged him yet. I'm sorry," Hardy replied with a gentle tone.

Her anger left her as quickly as it had come. She collapsed onto the sofa, a croaking noise escaping her throat. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and when she wiped them away they smudged over her face mixed with blood from a cut from the broken glass she was sitting on. Her shoulders were shaking with the sobs.

"We trusted him. It's our own fault," she cried.

Hardy wasn't sure how to comfort her in her grief. Words didn't seem appropriate and he couldn't find the right ones anyway. He cautiously placed his palm on her back. She twitched but didn't move away.

"It's not your fault, Cate. Don't blame yourself. You didn't do anything wrong. You have no hand in this," he said quietly.

"How can you even say that? Obviously we did, otherwise Pippa would still be alive. We should have never left her alone," she spat at him.

She rose from the sofa and walked up to the porch door. Her hand came up and she placed it flush against the window. "We led her right in the arms of the predator. We failed as parents, _I_ failed as a mother."

Her hand dropped, leaving a bloody stain on the glass. She stared at it for a few heart beats, then took the sleeve of her sweater and scrubbed it off more vigorously than needed. She turned and looked straight at Hardy.

"Did you find Lisa? Did the bastard tell you where he dumped her?" she asked with disgust in her voice.

Hardy flinched over her harsh words. He shook his head.

"You better find her. And you better put him behind bars, because if you don't, I'll kill him." She was as serious as Hardy had ever heard anyone. No raised voice, just a quiet and simple vow of revenge. It was terrifying him, more than any angry outburst could have. A cold shiver ran down his spine and all he wanted to do was leave. He got up slowly.

"Cate, if there is anything that you haven't told us that could help make the case against him, please tell me now. We have –"

"Are you telling me, you can't prove it? What have you lot been doing all this time then?" She took a few quick steps towards him and her face was so close to his that he could smell the wine on her breath. "If he walks free because you didn't do your job right, you better not bump into me somewhere alone."

Hardy backed away, staggered by the hostility in her voice. He didn't doubt her threat for one second. His heart was racing in his chest, leaving him weak. He swallowed hard, trying to pull himself together.

"I assure you we are doing what we need to do to get you justice. I was only asking to explore every alley," he replied, hoping he could calm her down.

She squinted her eyes at him, taking in his sincere expression. Then, suddenly, the tension left her body. She slumped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. Of course you are. I don't know what I'm saying any more."

Hardy sighed deeply and sat down next to her again. "Cate, I'm not in your shoes. I can't even begin to imagine what must go on inside you. It's overwhelming you and you're drowning." Just like he was. "Maybe you should think of getting some help, talk to a counsellor?"

Her head hanging low, she nodded. "You might be right," she whispered, voice breaking. She looked up, eyes watery. "I'm so alone," she muttered.

Before Hardy knew it, he had pulled her into a hug. It was entirely unprofessional and against all policies but he couldn't let this broken woman perish in her pain. He was comforting her, from one parent to another. He held her tightly until her tears slowed down and she moved away from him.

He cleared his throat and mumbled, "I'm sorry. I hope that wasn't –"

She stalled him with her hand on his arm. "Thank you." Their eyes locked and Hardy knew she meant it.

He clambered to his feet. "I should go. Got things to do," he stumbled through his words.

She nodded silently and accompanied him to the door. Right before she closed it he turned to her and said, "I'm going to make sure he's locked away. I'll do anything for it, I promise."

"Good," was her sole response and she slowly swung the door shut.

Hardy stood straight and briskly left their house. He hurried down the street, around the corner, into a side alley. When he was sure nobody could see him, he slumped against the wall, slid down to the ground, pulled up his knees to his aching chest, buried his head under his arms and cried until he had no tears left.

Then he took in a shuddering breath, wiped away the snot, got up and drew upon all his remaining strength to go on.

* * *

Hardy had to find Claire. He had to convince her to disclose everything about that fateful Saturday night. She couldn't be at their house as SOCO was still there. Thompson suggested she might be at work. It was as good a guess as any and Hardy took his chance.

The bell of the hair dresser's store jingled when he opened the door. He was greeted by a "Be right with you." and felt immense relief when he recognized Claire's voice. He waited in the middle of the room. When she saw him, she stopped dead in her tracks, spun around and went straight back through the curtained doorway she'd been coming from. Hardy rushed after her, ignoring his protesting body.

He caught her right before she was slipping out the back door. His long fingers clamped down on her arm and yanked her back more forcefully than he'd wanted to.

"Oi, no running. We need to talk," he hissed.

"Let go of me. You're hurting me," she cried, an angry scowl distorting her face.

Hardy loosened his grip but didn't open his hand completely. He didn't trust her.

"Claire, you need to tell me what happened that night. We have Lee in custody and it's time to stop playing games," he stated sternly.

She crossed her arms and pulled her mouth into a pout. "As long as you're hurting me, I'm not going to say anything."

"Fine. But if you try to run again, I swear I'll have a warrant out on you in no time," he threatened and reluctantly moved his hands off of her.

She smirked and pretended to move towards the door. He didn't even flinch. It was a poor bluff on her part.

"Claire?" His eyebrows went up.

She giggled nervously. Then her eyes narrowed and her expression hardened. "Did you ask Lee if he hit me?"

Hardy wasn't sure what the safe answer was. He seriously questioned Claire's motivation for coming forth about her whereabouts that night. If she was only out to get back at her husband for domestic abuse then she would make a weaker witness. A clever solicitor could easily discredit her statement. Hardy suppressed a groan at his disgust over his own calculating thoughts. He should be more supportive to a woman who was under duress.

"No, Claire. I did not. We –"

"Why not? He needs to take responsibility for what he did," she snarled.

"That's exactly what we are trying to focus on," he replied softly. "To make him take responsibility for the murder of two girls. Claire, I hate to be so blunt, but this is bigger than a domestic squabble that didn't end well. It looks like Lee took two lives and he needs to be brought to justice for that. Do you understand?" he argued.

She let out a short laugh. "He sure did take two lives, didn't he?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. One of her hands came to rest on her lower abdomen and again Hardy was wondering if she was pregnant.

"Claire, are you telling me Lee murdered those girls?" he pried carefully, not wanting to put too much pressure on her.

She shook her head, pressing her lips together. Then, rather abruptly she blurted out, "You can't prove anything and he's going to walk free. And then he's going to come after me."

"Claire, if you tell me where you were that night, he won't walk free. I swear. We've got enough to convict him, if you testify," he pleaded with her. It was a lie, he couldn't be sure, but he had nothing else going for him. He needed her statement.

She was still shaking her head, trembling now. He stepped closer and gently put his hand on her elbow. He cocked his head and found her teary big eyes.

"I promise to protect you. No harm will happen to you if you help us." His voice was warm and kind and he was sincere. Why did it feel like selling his soul then?

She held his gaze, then leaned her head against his chest. "You promise?" she asked, her voice muffled against his coat. He knew she wanted him to hug her but he didn't.

"Aye, I do" he said, voice gravelly with his earnestness.

She pushed herself off of his body and looked him in the eye. The tears had been replaced with a victorious gleam. She had won their game. He was in her hand.

"I wasn't home all evening. Lee has no alibi," she stated coldly and Hardy shivered with the level of calculation that resonated in her voice.

He swallowed. He finally had what he wanted. It made him feel dirty.

"Come to the station with me and make an official statement. Now," he ordered her and started to walk towards the door.

"No."

"What?" He spun around, livid. He had enough of this game and her.

"Not today. I'll come tomorrow. Not negotiable." She was dead serious and he had no fight left in him.

"If you don't come in the morning, he'll walk free by the afternoon," was all he said and trudged away. For once, he had the last word.

* * *

By the time he returned to the station, he was utterly exhausted. He had stumbled from one emotionally draining moment into the next and his capability to cope was failing. He slammed the door of his office, shutting out everything. He glanced at the various notes with messages, the lack of news about the car being the most notable.

He hadn't even had a chance yet to take off his coat when Tess barged into his office. Her face was bright red and she wore a scowl.

"What the hell did you do to Daisy, Alec?" she spat at him.

He shrank under her rage and slumped onto the sofa.

"The poor girl was in tears when I saw her for lunch today," she continued. "She said you were mean to her and ignored her completely."

"I…" he stuttered, overwhelmed with his emotions. The guilt that had been eating at him all day long was drowning him and he had no words.

"For fuck's sake, Alec, how can you do this to her? She's been the center of your attention ever since she was born and now when she needs you most, you're a total arse about it," Tess ranted on.

"I'm not an arse, am I?" he asked, self-doubt making his voice shaky. He was hurt by her words and what they implied about him. He couldn't help but think there might be some truth to it. She didn't reply to his question.

"Daisy was _crying_ , Alec, bitterly. She said you've been so distant and not involved and she can't understand why. She thinks it's her. It took me quite some effort to convince her that it's not anything she did or hasn't done but that it's _you_ ," Tess went on, not showing any mercy.

He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa. His daughter thought he didn't care about her. What had he done? What had this case done to him? He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyeballs in a desperate attempt to get a grip.

"I know there's a lot on your plate right now, Alec, but you can't take it out on her. We're just lucky that I'm handling things better than you are at the moment. And maybe it's for the better anyway. Some of the things that are going on with Daisy are rather delicate and certainly need a girl's mother more than her father." Tess made a compelling argument. He was failing as a father. It was easy to believe.

Hardy opened his eyes and looked at his angry wife. "'M sorry, Tess," he breathed.

"That's all you have to say? That's not good enough. Daisy needs someone right now and if you can't be that person, then at least have the decency to not make her miserable," Tess demanded.

He nodded silently.

"Good." It seemed she'd gotten what she came for. Without saying anything further, she took off as quickly as she had swooped down upon him, leaving devastation behind.

His mind was blank, unable to process what had happened. All he knew was that it hurt, badly. His chest was burning and he felt so empty. By the time he realized that the sensation was quite literal, it was too late. The pills never made it into his mouth before he passed out for the second time that day.

* * *

Hardy woke up in the dark. Nightfall had come and only a few noises trickled in from the main CID office. He sat up slowly, disentangling himself from his coat. His mobile clattered to the ground. When he bent down to pick it up, he noted several missed calls. He unlocked the screen hoping it would be news about the car, only to find an angry voice mail from Emily Abbott, reminding him that he was supposed to get in touch if he wanted to keep her as his cardiologist.

With effort, he stood up and dragged his tired body over to his desk where his medication was safely tucked away. The monitor of his computer was the only light in the room. He clumsily sifted through his drawer, hunching over while his other hand braced him on the corner of the table. His chair was tempting but he knew that if he sat down in it he'd never get up again. His body didn't deserve any more punishment than it already had received that day.

His eyes fell on the newspaper that someone had left behind for him. He brushed away the memo papers that cluttered the headline and immediately wished he hadn't.

" _Arrest Made In The Sandbrook Murders – A Desperate Attempt By The Police To Save Face?"_

Underneath it was a picture of him with a juicy legend about his past, questioning his competency and abilities. Holding on to the paper that was shaking in his hands, he fell hard onto his chair. Despite his better judgement, he read the article. His elbows were perched on the tabletop, his palm supporting his heavy head. Forgotten were the pills that he should have taken hours ago. The slanderous and disparaging words were an onslaught that after the day he had, he barely could handle. He crouched over the article and tortured himself by reading it again. The letters swam in front of him in the dim blue light of the computer monitor. He rubbed his burning eyes with his fingers, glasses pushed up onto is forehead.

"Sir?"

DC Swenson's quiet voice shook him out of his self-deprecatory thoughts. His head snapped up and he sucked in air sharply through his nose. His not-so-stealthy attempt at wiping away his tears didn't go unnoticed.

"You don't deserve this, sir," Swenson commented angrily, waving her hand vaguely at the newspaper that Hardy was clutching.

Hardy squinted at her against the light that was framing her filtering through the half opened door behind her. He rubbed his stinging eyes again. The doubt that he felt must have found his way onto his face. Swenson stepped closer. Her arm twitched at her side, but then she didn't reach for him after all.

"We've arrested Ashworth and that is to your credit, no one else's. What you said to your wife the other day, that whatever we have in this case came from your work is the truth, and we all know it."

Hardy cleared his voice but his words were still hoarse. "Goes the other way round too. If we can't convict him, it's on me as well."

"Don't think like that. We've found a good amount of –"

"Swenson, any clever solicitor could get him off if we don't find any hard evidence," Hardy interrupted her harshly. He saw her face falter and felt bad. "'M sorry, didn't want to snap at you. I appreciate your support. You've done good work on this." He smiled and she blushed. He finally let go of the paper, draping it over the pills that he had left out on the table.

Looking up he realized, she'd seen them. Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. He dragged his hands down his face.

"Any news about the car?" he tried to distract. Her eyes were still fixed on the same spot when she shook her head.

"Sir, can I ask you a personal question? You don't have to answer," she added quickly when she saw the grimace on his face. It had nothing to do with her words but she couldn't know that. His heart protested the fact that he was more than overdue for his medication.

"Go on," he said softly, wondering how he'd explain his marital issues to her.

"I've noticed you've lost…" she hesitated and Hardy's stomach clenched up. She wasn't going to ask him about Tess but about his health. He held her gaze and her blush turned crimson.

She took in a deep breath, mustering her courage. "I've noticed you don't look well. You look like you've lost a lot of weight and you're so tired all the time."

Hardy sighed. "'M fine, Swenson." What else was he going to say?

"I've seen the tape, sir. You're not fine," she blurted out.

Hardy stiffened up. Claire's first interview, he'd forgotten that he almost fainted while being recorded. Sooner or later someone had to have noticed.

"It's nothing, Swenson. I wasn't feeling well that day, had a stomach bug," he explained. He didn't even believe himself. He was a miserable liar.

Swenson nodded, worry still clouding her face. "If you say so. It's just…" she trailed off.

He cocked his head and gave her a small smile. "Out with it. I can see something's bugging you."

She reconsidered and her expression changed. "It's just that you're always so hard on yourself. You don't take breaks, you don't stop until it's done and I'm worried that you're ill and not telling anyone, because you want to finish this case. You'd continue until you literally can't any more, until it's maybe too late." Her initial words had been strong and said with conviction, but when she reached her last sentence her voice trembled and was barely audible.

Hardy's mouth gaped open, staring at his DC not knowing what to say. He had utterly underestimated this young detective who was more perceptive than most people around him.

"You don't have to say anything. I get it. But maybe you could think about going easy on yourself at times. Be kinder with yourself, you know." She paused, fidgeting with the seam of her blouse. "And ask for help?" she added insecurely, looking anywhere but at him. She turned quickly to leave before he could answer. Right before she closed the door, she stuck her head back in and ordered, "Oh, and go home, would you please?"

He stared at the closed door, marveling at how this woman who barely knew him seemed more compassionate than his own wife. With a groan, he retrieved his pills and staggered back to the sofa.

A shudder rippled through him when he finally let himself look at the fact that he had passed out twice in the past twelve hours. He swallowed the tablets and realized that it had slipped his mind to take his medication since the morning. It gave him some consolation to blame his heart giving out on his forgetfulness rather than his poor state of health. The blinking light on his mobile reminded him to call Emily. He was too tired to talk. Instead, he texted an apology and that he would see her first thing in the morning.

Hardy's face darkened with the thought of what the next days would bring. He tossed his mobile on the sofa next to him, making the mistake of leaning back and closing his eyes. Sleep came quickly and it wasn't until the wee hours of the morning after waking up drowning and crying, that he trudged out of the station to find his way back to a dark and silent house. He sneaked into his home like a thief in the night, feeling lonelier than he ever had.

* * *

 **A/N:** I wanted to thank HAZELMIST again for all her support, encouragement and help. I almost managed to have no of/off mistakes in this chapter and if there is one left, then I'll take the full blame. They are my specialty – that's what you get when English is not your first language. I also wanted to thank her for repeatedly going through all the heartache while re-reading the chapters multiple times. I believe her most notable quote on this round of editing is "AHHHHH YOU ARE MURDERING ME WITH ONE FREAKING LINE". If someone wants to kindly donate a gently used keyboard which supports frequent use of caps lock (not sure if her keyboard can handle the next chapters), a few boxes of tissues (apparently I make her cry very frequently), and hold her hand while she's in line to hug Alec Hardy, I'm sure she'd be grateful. I on the other hand immensely enjoy her running commentary and side notes and am very grateful for that. SO, THANK YOU MY FRIEND!


	26. CHAPTER 25

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for sticking with the story and a special thanks to those who take the time to comment. I hope this Wednesday in Hardy's life is not too upsetting…

* * *

 **CHAPTER 25**

Hardy didn't find any sleep in his bed. His overly tired mind was playing an endless loop of horrifying images which didn't let him rest. Soon enough, he gave up. His eyes lingered longingly on Tess' curled up body before he tiptoed out into the hallway. He peeked into Daisy's room, catching a quick glimpse at his daughter. And just like he had sneaked into his house in the darkest night, he left his home in the grey morning hours, before his family ever knew he'd been there.

He lurked around Emily's office building until it opened, having arrived way too early for his visit. The receptionist suffered from intolerable morning grouchiness and reminded him he still wouldn't be seen before his scheduled appointment. He didn't care, he had nowhere else to be than this waiting room. Leaning back against the wall, he shut out the harsh fluorescent light, weariness tugging on his eyelids.

"You're here early." Emily's surprised voice yanked him out of his slumber. He grimaced involuntarily when his heart stuttered, limping along after being woken up suddenly. Emily's hand came up but she didn't touch him. Turning, she instructed her staff to bring him into an exam room. Hardy couldn't help himself but smirk at the scowl of the receptionist. He let them go through the motions – temperature, blood pressure, the obligatory frown when taking his heart rate – waiting patiently for Emily to come back.

When Emily entered the room, he ducked his head and apologized meekly, "I forgot to call and I'm sorry," before she could scold him.

"Alec, you promised," Emily complained disgruntled.

He dragged his hand over his face. "Please, Emily. Let it go. I had a really long day yesterday." He sounded way too exhausted for this early morning hour.

"Are you okay?" Her disgruntlement had disappeared and given way to concern. He pressed out some air between his gritted teeth.

"Would it help if I'd say, that I'm fine?" he scoffed.

"What happened?" she probed with so much kindness in her voice that he could hardly bare it. The various encounters of the past day flicked through his mind, ending on the image of Tess comforting a crying Daisy, slowly walking away from him.

"I don't wanna talk about it. It was a shit day, let's leave it at that," he sighed.

She hesitated, but didn't pursue it further. "How did the heart hold up?"

"Forgot to take my pills. Might have passed out twice," he mumbled, embarrassed over his inability to care for himself.

"Oh, Alec." The two words carried sadness mixed with more affection than he'd expected. "Was there someone with you?"

"Not when I passed out in my office," he admitted.

"Nobody found you?" she asked in disbelief.

"It was late. Should've probably gone home," came his reluctant reply. She had heard the hesitation in his voice.

"Alec, why didn't you want to go home? Have you told your wife about Thursday? Is that why?" she inquired gently.

He remained silent. The lump in his throat was growing.

"Alec?"

"I made Daisy cry yesterday," he blurted out, his voice cracking.

"You told her about the arrhythmia?" She sounded surprised.

"No, I wish," he sighed. That would have been better than what actually happened. "I was an arse to her. Blew up about something stupid and then didn't listen to her. She was so upset and her mother said she thinks I don't care about her and I…" He couldn't go on, choking up with tears.

Emily took in a sharp breath. "That's nonsense and you know it. Your wife –"

"How do you know it's nonsense? I've been so distracted by everything and not –" he spat back at her.

"Alec, you only recently found out that you have a life-threatening illness. In the wake of this you were told you'd have to change almost everything in your life," she interjected. Hardy huffed but she continued without stopping for one heartbeat. "You had an extremely traumatizing experience when you almost drowned while rescuing the dead body of a girl…" – Hardy flinched – "… that reminds you of your own daughter. Since then you've barely slept or eaten and are trying to solve a murder case on top of everything else. _Of course_ you're distracted. You're barely holding up and quite frankly, I'm surprised you made it this far." She paused for a moment to take in another deep breath.

"I'm so _worried_ about you," she added with a quiver in her voice. "Your family can help you, if you let them in. Instead of grinding yourself down with hiding a secret you shouldn't have, you could have their support. I'm sure whatever happened with Daisy yesterday can easily be put straight if you're honest with her and your wife. They will be understanding but they can only do that if you _tell_ them."

Hardy listened to her quietly, tears running down his cheeks. She couldn't have been more right.

"I don't know how. I've tried," he confessed hoarsely.

Emily sighed, her face mirroring her resigned tone. "I'm going to suggest something and you can think about it. How about we set up a meeting for this afternoon with you, Daisy and your wife and I'll help you talk to them. I'll take charge and all you have to do is bring them in. Nothing else."

She had her eyes fixed on him, making Hardy feel cornered. He didn't even know why. Maybe telling his family was the last bastion of denial that he had to conquer before fully accepting how his life had changed forever.

"How am I going to make them come to your office without explaining why?" It was a feeble attempt at deflection and utterly pathetic, the last kicks of a drowning person. He shot her a desperate glance.

"Seriously?" she replied sharply, unable to hide her exasperation. He knew he was testing her patience more than was reasonable. He couldn't help himself though. She breathed deeply, and when she continued her voice was soft. "Fine. I'm going to regret this but I could come to your house in the evening. They'll be there, right?"

"Aye," he mumbled, not daring to look at her.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," she muttered in disbelief.

"Thank you," he croaked, shoulders dropping with the relief of the tension he had been feeling.

She huffed. "If I ever get a speeding ticket, you'll have to get me out of it. Who's coming with you tomorrow? I assume you haven't asked your wife." There was only the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"Dunno. My best friend can't. Thought about maybe asking my boss," Hardy said, questioning his own words.

"Your boss? You'd rather talk to him than your wife?" Surprise was written all over her face.

"He's a friend. And he knows about my heart. Caught me taking the pills. I promised him to take care of it. I'm sure he'd be fine with helping me out," Hardy explained. Then a small smile curled up his lips thinking about Emily and Baxter in the same room. "You might actually like him. He doesn't let me get away with shit."

Emily chuckled and her eyes brightened. "Can't wait to meet him. Although I still think it should be your family coming with you. We might need them there." Hardy was confused by her last words and even more so when he saw a flicker of a worried frown play over her face.

She stepped closer and felt for his pulse while listening to his heart and lungs. Hardy saw her expression change and he dreaded what she might have to say. As always, she made him lie down and put the ECG stickers on. She scrutinized the print out, frown deepening. Then she ripped the paper off the machine with more force than necessary and Hardy's bad feeling grew only stronger.

"Alec, why don't you get dressed? I want to show this to a colleague before we discuss the procedure tomorrow. I'll be right back." She smiled at him but Hardy knew her too well by now to be fooled. She was worried.

He slowly put his shirt and tie back on, fumbling with the knot as if he'd never done one before in his life. Insecure where to sit, he perched on the edge of the exam table, his fingers fidgeting with the crinkly paper. It took her a long time to return. Or maybe it only seemed like an eternity to Hardy.

She took a seat behind her desk and beckoned him to sit on the chair opposite her.

"Alec, I'm not going to beat around the bush, but be straightforward with you," she opened her talk. "I showed your ECG to one of my very experienced partners, just to be sure about what I think is the best action. My strong recommendation is to do the pacemaker tomorrow right after we do the EP studies."

She saw his worried face.

"I know this is not what we discussed but considering the rapid progression of your symptoms and the disconcerting frequency of more severe episodes, it's the most reasonable thing to do. Your heart needs to be supported by not only a pacemaker but also by an implantable defibrillator, an ICD. We can say that for sure, even without doing further testing."

"I can't do that. I haven't told Tess what's going on," he protested, panicking. "Are you sure about this?" he added, desperately ignoring the truth.

"Yes." There wasn't any doubt in her voice.

He shook his head in disbelief. She'd said it all along but it wasn't until now that he realized he had still hoped she'd be mistaken about all of this. It was an irrational thought, but something he had clung onto.

"I don't want you to do that. Not without having the results from the test. What if you're wrong?" His voice was trembling.

"Alec, please. I'm not wrong and you know it. You need this intervention and we can do it all at once, minimizing the risks," she tried to reason with him.

"Risks?" he echoed her, tensing up. She had never mentioned anything about that before. "Didn't you say pacemaker insertions are fairly harmless?" He sounded way more alarmed than he wanted to.

She looked away briefly, blushing. "I might have underestimated your disease."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice shifted pitch.

"Initially I thought because you had been without major symptoms for most of your life that you might have a milder variant of Long QT syndrome. Now, following you for the last few weeks, I am not so sure about that any more. I can't tell you why it took so long for it to show its true nature, but I believe the severity of the symptoms you've experienced since your first cardiac arrest indicate a more unstable form." She paused and chewed on her lip.

Hardy's mouth gaped open. He interlocked his trembling fingers and leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. Without looking at her, he growled, "You still haven't told me the risks."

"Cardiac catheterizations have general risks, such as bleeding, infection, injury to the blood vessels, risk for blood clots to name a few. The idea of the electrophysiologic study is to trigger an arrhythmia episode under controlled fashion to see how it reacts to pacing and electrical shocks. It helps with making the diagnosis and guiding the treatment. We could do both in the same session – EP study and pacemaker placement. We don't normally do that, but I discussed it with my colleagues and they agree it might be the approach with the least risks."

Hardy was listening, his head hanging down. He'd never been as scared in his life with the exception when Tess and Daisy's lives had been on the line. He stole a quick glance at Emily and when he saw her face he realized there was something else she wanted to say.

He looked up into her sad eyes. "What else Emily?" he asked, voice low and gravelly.

"The reason why we think combining the procedure might be beneficial is your extremely high risk for anesthesia." She hesitated and shifted in her chair. Her discomfort made him feel very unsettled and he dreaded her next words. "People with Long QT syndrome don't do well with anesthetics and certain sedatives. It makes the underlying problem worse and can set their hearts off. And considering how vulnerable your heart seems to be currently, I and my colleagues are very worried about your risk to go into cardiac arrest while we are doing any of those procedures." She had leaned forward, fidgeting with her pen.

Hardy stared at her dainty fingers that were clicking the top of the pen repeatedly. He'd never seen her that nervous. It frightened him more than anything she'd told him.

"Are you telling me I could very well not survive the procedure?" he asked, holding his breath.

She hesitated, then said with a gentle voice that didn't help to take the harshness out of the words, "Yes, Alec. You have a very high risk of suffering a fatal attack during the procedure. We think that if we have the equipment in place for the EP studies we'd stand a better chance to rescue you if needed during the actual pacemaker placement. But it's not a guarantee that we can control the abnormal heart beat, especially at the beginning of the procedure when you'd be the most vulnerable."

Hardy ran his fingers through his hair and sucked air in through his nose. Then he said, voice heavy with his Scottish accent, "So you're telling me I might die tomorrow?"

She nodded in silence.

"I'm not doing it," he blurted out. All he could think of was Daisy and how he had made her cry. She didn't even know that he was ill. What if he didn't come home without them ever having had a chance to talk?

"Alec, if you don't do it, you will most definitely die. Your heart is so strained at this point, I don't think it could handle another serious episode. We might not be able to bring you back like we did last time when your heart stopped. And considering the poor condition you're in right now, I'm very worried you won't be around in a month." He'd never heard her be that serious and it sent a shiver down his spine.

He shook his head, hands kneading his thighs. "Emily, I can't do it. Not without finishing the case and talking to my family. What if I…" He couldn't bring himself to express his fears.

"I think you can't wait any longer. Every day that passes your chances of surviving the procedure are getting slimmer and chances of your heart having a fatal attack are rising. You've arrested someone. Let your team handle the rest. We can call your wife right now and I'll talk to her. You can tell your daughter together." She reached for the phone.

"No. Don't. I'll tell her in person. She deserves as much." He held her back, gripping her hand harder than needed.

She searched his face for a long time. "All right. You do what you think is the best thing. If you need support, you know how to get a hold of me. My offer still stands to come to your house this evening and help you with the talking." She gently pried his fingers lose from where they were still holding onto her wrist. Then she smiled reassuringly.

"Let's go over all the other things you need to know." Hardy barely heard her, his mind going blank after learning that he might die the next day.

When he left an hour later, he didn't remember much about the details of the procedure or the instructions. They'd taken blood, given him a stack of papers and sent him on his way. He rubbed the spot where they had poked him and clutched the pamphlets tightly. He had no idea how he'd tell his boss that he might not be around to see Ashworth go to prison. He had no idea how he'd tell his wife that he might not be around on the weekend. He had no idea how he'd tell his daughter that he might not be around to see her grow up. He had no idea how he'd tell himself that this might be the last time he'd feel the warm morning sun on his face.

* * *

Hardy stuffed the papers in his coat and with them the morbid thoughts and fears. He needed to focus on finishing the case. Claire was coming to give her statement and there was still the car. By the time he reached the station, he regained his usual stoic expression and nobody would have known that he might not return the next day.

To his surprise, Claire showed up by half nine. DC Swenson brought her to the interrogation room. They had offered her legal advice but again she'd declined it. As always she'd insisted on only talking to Hardy.

He walked by Tess' desk, stopped and turned. They hadn't spoken all morning.

"Claire Ripley is here. Do you want to sit with me?" he asked insecurely. He was done with Claire's games and after Tess and he had done well with Ashworth, he felt strongly about having her in the room.

She looked up, not hiding her surprise. "You want me there?" He nodded, mouth slightly open. "Don't you think she won't talk?"

He shrugged. "She might need a bit of coaxing, but if this is going to be our key witness statement I want to make sure there will be no reason for any barrister to discard it for technical reasons."

She nodded in agreement and got up. They walked over to the elevators in silence. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms while they were waiting. His eyes rested on her, taking in her soft features, her blue eyes, the way her hair was pulled back. She caught him staring and she blushed. She was standing close enough that he could smell her shampoo, the faint lavender scent that was always clinging to her. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift back to happier days of laughing together in the sun, the grass tickling his cheeks and his hands caressing her pregnant belly.

"Alec?" Her voice was soft and her warm hand cupped his cheek, wiping away a single tear. "What's going on with you?" He opened his eyes into hers and barely could pull himself together, losing himself in the blue ocean.

He sniveled and pushed off the wall. "Nothing. Just thinking about something." He swallowed. "Do you think Daisy would talk to me about what happened?" he asked hopefully.

She tilted her head and looked at him for a long time. Then she smiled. "Of course she will. You're her dad and she loves you."

He nodded, chewing his lips. He should tell her, right now, before his courage left him. The elevator came and spilled out its load of people. They stepped in and the moment was gone with the doors closing behind them.

* * *

Claire's piercing eyes didn't leave Tess for one moment as soon as they walked into the room. They sat and Tess set up the tape and went over the formalities, while Hardy took in the woman in front of him. He still wasn't sure if she could be trusted but at this point she was all he had to work with.

He moved his chair closer and perched his elbows on the table. Judging from the scowl Claire was wearing, they might have to play good-cop-bad-cop with her. He suppressed a smile. For once he'd be the good one which was usually Tess' role.

"Claire, when I met you yesterday you told me that you were not home all evening of April 14th as you had stated previously. Could you please tell us where you were that night?" he began, voice neutral.

"What is she doing here?" Claire hissed, her head gesturing to Tess.

Tess took in a deep breath, but before she could say something, he had his hand on her arm, indicating her to stay quiet.

"DS Henchard is here as it is preferred to have two officers to take an official statement like I have told you before," Hardy explained calmly. "We all have a common interest here, Claire. To gather the facts about what happened that night so that the responsible person can be brought to justice."

"I'm not going to say anything while she's here," Claire insisted, pulling her mouth into a stubborn line.

Tess was tensing up in her chair and Hardy wondered how much longer she'd be able to keep quiet. He leaned closer and relaxed his face as much as he could. Smiling, he said, "Claire, please. Be reasonable. You want to help, don't you? You liked Pippa and we should honor her memory by putting our own resentments and feelings aside and focus on what's the right thing to do."

She stared at him from behind her long bangs. Then she crossed her arms and murmured, "Fine."

Her mouth drawn into a pout, she looked away. Hardy allowed himself a small sigh and a quick glance at his wife. She looked as annoyed as Claire. Somewhere inside he marveled at the female psyche and how he would never be able to understand it.

"I'm glad we are all on the same page now." He sure hoped they were. "Can you walk us through your whereabouts for the evening of April 14th?" he resumed his questioning.

"As I said before, I came home to do Cate's hair and then went to my house."

"Did you stay home all night?" Hardy cut to the chase, getting exasperated with the back and forth.

Claire waited for a long time before she finally answered. "No."

"Where were you then?" It was like pulling teeth.

"I went out with a friend and stayed at her house," she stated reluctantly.

"When was the last time you saw your husband that night?" Hardy prompted.

"Around maybe half six or seven."

"What was he doing?"

"Taking a shower."

"Did you actually talk to him?" Hardy wished he didn't have to elicit every single detail from her.

"I told him I was going out with my friend while he was in the bathroom. He wasn't happy."

"When did you leave the house?"

"Maybe around half seven. I fixed Lee some food while he was in the shower and left before he'd finished. My friend picked me up. We had plans to go out for dinner and then maybe to a bar."

"What's your friend's name?" They would have to talk to that person to verify Claire's story.

"Why do you need to know? I don't want to drag her into this." Claire was back to being annoyed.

"I'm sorry, Claire, but the more information we have, the stronger the evidence will be. So, what's her name?" he repeated.

Claire chewed on her lower lip and stayed mute.

"Claire?" He closed in on her and raised his eyebrows. She looked at him, not at all intimidated.

"If you don't tell us then anyone could argue you're just making this up. If there is another person confirming your story, there won't be any doubt," he explained sternly.

"Her name is Marie Tilden," Claire eventually revealed after she had unsuccessfully tried to stare Hardy down.

"We'll need her address and phone number as well," Hardy added.

Claire shrugged. She didn't seem to care any more now that she'd already given up everything.

"When did you see your husband the next time?"

"On Sunday morning," she replied.

"When did you come back to your house?"

"Must've been early, maybe five or six in the morning. I stayed at my friend's for most of the night. We were having a good time," she added as way of explanation.

"Did you see your husband when you got in?" Hardy sought clarification.

"No. I went to sleep on the sofa, didn't want to wake him up. I didn't see him until we both woke up, around nine o'clock or so."

"Did you notice anything unusual when you came home? In your house or at the Gillespie's?" Hardy asked, without much hope of getting anything useful.

"No. Should I have?" She sounded surprisingly naïve.

"Claire, do you believe your husband, Lee, killed Pippa Gillespie?" Hardy questioned softly. He didn't expect an answer but he needed to ask.

Claire looked him straight in the eye. "I don't know." They stared at each other for what seemed a long time, neither one making a move.

Eventually, Tess shifted in her chair and spoke for the first time since they'd come into the room. "Claire, why did you lie to us in the first place?"

Hardy's eyes didn't leave Claire. Besides the question where Claire had been that night, this was maybe the most important thing to ask. This and why she'd changed her mind.

Claire shook her head. "That's none of your business."

"It sure is and I won't be the only person asking this question. Why did you hold back the truth and only decided now to come forth?" Tess insisted. Hardy let her take the lead, now that she'd started down that path.

Claire remained silent, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two detectives. They ended up resting on Hardy.

"Let's say I saw the wrong of my ways," she stated without much emotion. Then, still looking at Hardy, she added softly, "And maybe he's not what I need any more."

It cost Hardy a lot of effort not to squirm under her gaze. He could not afford to give away the uncomfortable feeling he had that she had won their game after all. An awkward silence ensued, until Tess cleared her throat.

"Claire, do you know what happened to Lee's car?" she asked.

Claire frowned. "His car? Why do you want to know?" There was an edge in her voice.

"Just answer the question, Claire. Do you know what happened to the car?" Hardy chimed in, wondering why she'd be so flustered about it. Again, the notion that she still wasn't telling the full truth crept up on him and left him with a wary feeling.

"He sold it," she replied shortly.

"Why?" Tess followed quickly before Hardy could even get a word in.

"Dunno. It's his car, he can do with it whatever he wants." She shrugged and pulled her lips down.

Something else popped up in Hardy's head. "Claire, who does the cleaning in your house?"

Both women looked at him in confusion. Tess tried to hide her irritation that he had cut into her line of questioning, but her raised eyebrow gave her away.

"We both do. How's that relevant?" Claire asked back.

"Can you describe your typical routine for cleaning?" Claire looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Then to his surprise, her eyes narrowed and her face became impassive before she answered.

"We are a bit compulsive. I like a clean house, no dirt behind furniture or under the rugs. You can always tell if someone is serious about cleanliness if there's dust on doors, shelves and stuff like that," she explained.

It was not the answer that Hardy expected and he couldn't help himself but think that she had figured out why he'd asked. He was sure she was lying. The question was why? He made a mental note to ask Lee the same thing. He shot a quick glance at Tess and she shook her head ever so slightly. They were done.

Claire was excused and he stayed behind with Tess.

"She's lying, Alec. Or at least not telling the full truth," Tess blurted out as soon as Claire had left.

Hardy nodded, mouth open. "I know," he sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair. She stood and he looked up at her. The harsh light in the interrogation room emphasized lines in her face she didn't have ten years ago and he didn't want to think about how he must look these days. But it didn't hide how beautiful she still was. He took her hand and swallowed hard. He had to tell her about what could happen the next day.

"Tess, I…" he trailed off, unable to articulate the unthinkable.

She tilted her head and searched his face, like she had done earlier. Then her hand came up and her fingers combed through his hair. He allowed himself to rest his head against her stomach, closing his tired eyes.

"You should talk to Daisy. Even if she's still mad at you, you deserve a chance to explain yourself." Her voice was gentle and her fingers caressed his head.

It was that moment that he realized he'd never be able to tell her. Not without support.

"Will you and Daisy be home tonight?" He lifted his face to look at her. She nodded. "Maybe we could all have dinner together, talk a bit?"

She squinted at him but didn't voice the question that was hiding in her blue eyes. "All right. I'll try digging up that friend of Claire's."

She moved away from Hardy, leaving him behind in the cold room.

* * *

The door closed and Hardy took in a deep breath, shivering in the chilly air. The cold that had seeped into his body when he pulled Pippa out of the water seemed to catch up with him and made his bones ache. He longed for the warmth of Tess' body that he hadn't felt in a long time. He slowly got up, battling his stiff joints. On the way to the elevator he sent a text message to Emily asking her if she could come to his house after all, that he needed someone to walk him through talking to his family. By the time the doors opened to let him out, she'd confirmed she could meet them at eight o'clock or later.

The CID main room was buzzing with the news that Claire Ripley had broken Ashworth's alibi. He couldn't quite share the excitement but didn't want to dampen the enthusiasm. Swenson was smiling shyly at him when he trudged past her desk. He could feel a faint heat on his cheeks. Her words from last night – ' _ask for help'_ \- echoed through his mind and he abruptly stopped. A pensive look on his face, he turned around and stepped up to her.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, leaning against her cubicle's partition. One hand was propped at his hip and the other dangled down, fingers tapping his leg.

She looked up in surprise. "Checking the latest report of the traffic division in regards to Ashworth's missing car," she replied, a question of her own resonating in the words.

"Hm." He sniffed and rubbed his tongue over his teeth.

"What is it, sir? You look like you've got something that's bugging you."

He sure did but it had nothing to do with the case. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

"The car… we think Ashworth got rid of it because it might link him to the murder. Let's assume for one moment Claire Ripley _knows_ what her husband did and further more knows _why_ he got rid of the car. What if… what if Claire Ripley knows who Ashworth sold the car to?" he thought out loud. "Could we use her to get to it? Let her help us find it?"

Swenson's face lit up. "We could put a trace on her?" she suggested excitedly.

Hardy contemplated his options. If Claire realized what they were doing, she might not cooperate any longer. On the other hand, if she could lead them to the car it could prove to be invaluable. Making a decision, he nodded, mouth open.

"Get someone on it, but someone good. She mustn't figure out that we are following her," he ordered.

"You got it, sir," Swenson happily complied, reaching for the phone.

"Swenson," he stalled her before she could make the call.

"Yes?" Her wide-eyed face turned toward him. She looked so young and Hardy felt suddenly very old.

He smiled and said for her ears only, "You're a good detective. And you've got your heart at the right place. Don't let this job change you."

She turned bright red and gaped at her boss. He patted her shoulder and walked away quickly before she could say anything in return, fighting his own embarrassment at the soppiness of his words.

* * *

Hardy was pacing in his office. The restlessness was unbearable and his already impatient general disposition was his own worst enemy. The thought of having to wait to talk to Tess and Daisy until the evening was driving him up the wall just as much as it was frightening him senseless. Again, he peeked through the blinds to see if Tess had returned but her desk was empty.

He finally had enough and decided to do something productive with his time and question Ashworth again. As Tess wasn't around, he commandeered an unwilling Dave Thompson to sit with him. It took them a long half an hour to produce the solicitor before he finally could get into the room with his suspect. He rushed through the formalities, feeling the urgency to get to ask what he had come for. He was living on borrowed time.

"Mr. Ashworth, what did you do with your car?" he opened the interview.

"What car?" Ashworth countered, making an effort to look bored.

Hardy was too riled up to play along. He leaned in to get as close as he could. "The car that you sold three days after the murder of Pippa Gillespie took place," he growled.

"I don't have –"

"Don't give me that nonsense about not owning a car," Hardy interrupted him. "You had one, you sold it – end of story. We know who you sold it to. Question is why did you get rid of it?"

Ashworth stayed mute.

"Lee?" Hardy moved even closer, raising his eyebrows.

Ashworth shook his head. "No comment."

Hardy threw his body back against the chair, pressing his lips into a thin line. He took a moment to compose himself. There was nothing during an interrogation that irked him more than those two words.

"Can you describe how you would typically clean your house?" Hardy threw at Ashworth out of the blue.

Ashworth was puzzled enough to lose his impassive face. A quick frown played over his forehead and then disappeared. "What sort of a question is that?"

"Just answer," Hardy barked at him, unable to keep his impatience at bay. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Thompson's disapproving look which annoyed him to say the least.

Ashworth shrugged. "Dunno. The usual I guess. Hoovering, washing floors, dusting, doing laundry. I don't see how that is in any way relevant."

"Who does the cleaning?" Hardy continued. It didn't sound like what Claire had told them.

"Mostly Claire, but I help." Ashworth didn't hide his confusion.

"How would you categorize your wife – picky about the cleaning or more superficial?"

Ashworth snorted and then grinned. "Claire's a slob, to be honest with you. She does what's needed and that's it. I'm a bit pickier but not a neat freak."

Hardy was pleased. He got them. It didn't prove anything, but it was yet another tiny piece in the puzzle. Now on to the meat of this interview.

"Mr. Ashworth, previously you stated that you and your wife, Claire, were together all night on April 14th, the night Pippa died and Lisa disappeared. Is that correct?"

Lee nodded silently.

"For the tape, Mr. Ashworth nodded in affirmation," Hardy stated. Then he moved forward, clasping his hands together and fixing his eyes on Ashworth.

"Your wife made an official statement testifying that she was out all evening and did not see you since around 6:30 P.M. that night until the next morning around 9 A.M. Do you have anything to say about this?" Hardy's tone of voice resonated with the gravity of the question.

Ashworth paled and his large frame tensed up. Hardy felt oddly pleased that his body wasn't the only one that gave his emotions away. Ashworth's solicitor pulled his client closer and whispered something into his ear. Ashworth didn't seem to listen. He leaned in until his face was close to Hardy's.

"She's lying," he said with conviction.

"Is she? I don't think so." Hardy retorted softly. He didn't blink while they were staring each other down.

Ashworth was the first to look away and Hardy had his confirmation that Claire hadn't lied. Or at least told part of the truth. He leaned back in his chair and waited to see if Ashworth was going to say anything else. He didn't.

"Mr. Ashworth, one more time, did you kill Pippa Gillespie?"

"No, I did not." He was quick to reply with a tremor in his voice.

"I don't believe you. I think you killed her and Lisa –"

"I did _not_ lay a hand on Lisa," Ashworth interjected adamantly.

Hardy once again was surprised how much more animated he was when it came to denying any involvement with Lisa's fate. Under different circumstances he might have considered believing him.

"You can keep rebutting the claims made against you as much as you like, Mr. Ashworth. The fact remains we have evidence to prove the contrary and that you have no alibi for that night. If I were you, I'd have a serious talk with your solicitor about your options."

Ashworth glared at him but didn't say anything. Hardy knew they had reached a stalemate. Which was probably a good thing as his tingling hands reminded him of his own personal battle he was fighting.

"If you reconsider your statement, you know how to get a hold of us. Interview terminated at 11:37 A.M."

Hardy was quick to get to his feet and left the room before anyone else could. His heart was pounding in his neck and by the time he reached the safety of his office, he could barely stand up straight, let alone move around. He managed to swallow his pills and collapsed onto the sofa, willing his body to calm down. He draped his arm over his burning eyes, letting all the frightening sensations of his heart failing wash over him.

He wasn't sure if he'd passed out or simply had drifted off to sleep, but when he came to, scared and alone, he knew it was time to talk to Baxter. He couldn't put it off any longer. His boss deserved to know that his SIO wasn't going to be able to finish the case. But more importantly, his friend deserved a goodbye.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope there wasn't too much medical stuff during Alec's conversation with Emily but I would like for things to make sense as much as possible and that needs a bit of explanation now and then. And I did try to balance it out with some feels and a healthy dose of angst (well, maybe unhealthy dose but I've warned people in advance, I have a tendency for melodrama and I'm taking full responsibility for what is to come).


	27. CHAPTER 26

**A/N:** It's the season to say Thank You (at least in a certain part of the world). So thanks to everyone who has been following Alec up until now and who has been so kind to leave comments and reviews. I am very grateful and feel humbled by the many things that were said. My special thanks goes to hazelmist who read the first words of this story many, many months ago and since then has patiently stuck with me and Alec's adventures. If there are more mistakes than usual, then it might be related to both author and beta being a wee bit emotional about this chapter. So, be warned. I hope you will still enjoy it. *hands out a complementary tissue*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 26**

There was a soft knock on his door. Baxter grunted an invitation and closed the file folder he'd been working on. He looked up and was surprised to find Hardy poking his head in instead of his usual stormy _'I-don't-give-a-shit-if-you're-busy'_ entrance.

"Sir, do you have a minute?"

The hairs on the nape of Baxter's neck rose. This was not like Hardy at all. He nodded and gestured for his DI to come in.

Hardy slowly trudged over to a chair but didn't sit. He grabbed the back of the chair tightly. His face was even paler than the day before and in a poetic moment Baxter thought he looked rather forlorn with his shaggy hair and stubble on his face.

"Alec, you're giving me the creeps. What the hell is going on with you?" Baxter asked, harsher than he had intended to.

Hardy flinched. He looked _small_ which considering his height was unsettling. He pushed himself off the chair and started a slow pace, hands on his hips.

"Claire revoked Ashworth's alibi. We have it as an official statement," he sighed.

"But that's fantastic news, Alec," Baxter exclaimed, excited that he'd be able to give CPS something to sink their teeth into.

Hardy stopped his restless journey and finally plopped onto a chair. "She's lying Ed, or at least not telling the full truth. Tess thinks the same." He dragged his hands down his grey face. "There're too many loose ends, I'm not gonna finish it," he mumbled behind his fingers.

Baxter sat up straight, suspicion rising. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Hardy shot him a sheepish glance and ran his tongue over his teeth. He looked so uncomfortable that it made Baxter's skin crawl.

"Alec, you're driving me bonkers. Can you just tell me what the hell is going on in that thick head of yours?" he barked at Hardy who jumped and was clearly rattled.

"I… Can I… I sort of need... the day off tomorrow," Hardy stuttered.

A furrow appeared on Baxter's brow. That was somewhat unexpected. He squinted at Hardy who was trying to hide his trembling hands between his legs. And suddenly the penny dropped.

"You're having that procedure? Tomorrow of all days?" Baxter couldn't hold his exasperation back.

Hardy ducked and dropped his gaze. His fingers kneaded his thighs. The silence was deafening and Baxter was about to say something, when Hardy looked up. His hazel eyes were burning with fear, something that Baxter had never seen before.

"Ed, I saw my doctor this morning. I can't wait any longer. I was hoping we'd be done with the case but…" he trailed off, shaking his hanging head. "At least we broke Ashworth's alibi," he muttered, jaw twitching.

Hardy's quiet words took a few heart beats to register with Baxter. He stared at Hardy, realizing how much pressure his friend must have been under to agree to have the procedure done before they had even charged Ashworth. He got up, stepped around his desk and sat down next to him, putting a hand on Hardy's shoulder.

"Of course you can have the day off. I didn't quite understand it was that urgent," Baxter reassured him gently. He could feel Hardy's heavy breaths under his hand and his worry about his friend's well-being was soon confirmed when Hardy fumbled through his pockets and produced his pills.

Hardy swallowed them without asking for water. It shouldn't have made Baxter feel bad, but it did. Seeing his friend like this hit a nerve that was still sore from when his daughter Emma had been fighting for her own life.

"I might not come back." Hardy choked on his words.

Baxter's hand on Hardy's shoulder tightened involuntarily. "What do you mean?" he asked warily, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

It took Hardy a long time to reply. "They might do the pacemaker tomorrow when they do the cath procedure. Can't come back right after that," he said, voice quivering. Face ashen, he wrung his hands. Baxter had been a successful detective for well over two decades. He recognized when someone was holding back, even in more accomplished liars than Hardy.

"Alec, look at me, please," Baxter demanded quietly. When Hardy obeyed and he saw his expression, Baxter knew immediately what he hadn't said. "How risky is this procedure?"

Hardy stared ahead. Eventually, he breathed one word. "Rather."

Baxter filled his lungs with air and let it out quickly. "Does Tess need off as well? I assume you can't go by yourself."

Hardy's face turned red and a croaking noise escaped his throat before he could hold it back.

"Lord, you still haven't told her?" Baxter exclaimed in disbelief. He wanted to slap him. The bloody idiot was still hiding from his family. "Unbelievable. You're such a stubborn moron. Why haven't you said anything to her?" he chided him.

"I tried," he mumbled, hiding his face behind his palms again. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Then he raised his gaze to Baxter. "I had a bad fight with Daisy yesterday. She thinks I don't care about her." He looked so desperate, it broke Baxter's heart.

"Tess is right. I can't give Daisy what she needs right now. I failed her as a father." Hardy's words got more and more quiet and by the end they were but a whisper.

It took Baxter a few moments to gather himself and resist the urge to yell at Hardy. He wanted to throttle him but that wasn't the right way to go. This needed more gentle hands.

"Alec, I met Daisy when she was how old? Four maybe? Since I saw you with her on that cold snowy night, there has been absolutely no doubt in my mind that you love this child more than anything. You're one of the most devoted parents I've ever met. Tess telling you otherwise is bullshit. You're Daisy's dad. She _loves_ you."

Hardy's shoulders were shaking with his sobs.

"Come here," Baxter sighed, pulling Hardy close. He held him until the tears slowed down and his breathing became easier. Then he let go and waited until Hardy finally looked at him.

With a smile he said, "I'm sending you home." Hardy began to protest but Baxter put his hand up. "Don't start. You're going to find Daisy and talk to her. And then you'll tell your wife about your heart disease and that you need her help. No more hiding, no more lying. It's time." Baxter's voice was kind but firm enough to sink in.

Hardy sniffed and wiped at his cheeks. "You're right," he said hoarsely, forlorn hazel eyes resting on Baxter. He clambered to his feet, using Baxter as a crutch. His hand gripped Baxter's shoulder briefly, before he moved towards the door.

With a hand on the door knob, his head dropped and he addressed Baxter one last time.

"Thank you, my friend. Bye for now," Hardy said more sincerely than Baxter had ever heard him. A cold shiver ran over him while he watched the door slowly closing behind Hardy.

* * *

Hardy stumbled into the restroom. He felt nauseated to the point that he couldn't trust his body not to betray him. This time it wasn't the pills though. Having to ask Baxter for the day off and why, had taken a toll on him. Hearing those words come out of his own mouth made everything so much more real. He had said goodbye to one of his best friends.

He splashed some water in his face, scrubbing at his grey skin. It couldn't wash away all the exhaustion and anxiety he was feeling. He lifted his gaze and stared at the reflection of a man he barely recognized. His fingers brushed over the image and he closed his eyes, wanting to shut out the harsh reality. It didn't work. His pale face was burned into his retina and projected against his closed eyelids. It was soon joined by the ghostly images of two children. A shudder ran down his spine and he jerked out of his daydream.

He had kept it together for so long, he couldn't lose it now. "Come on, Hardy" _,_ he growled at himself in a desperate attempt to get a grip. A few deep breaths later, he had found enough composure to sneak back to his office and get his things in order.

He made sure he'd filed all the proper reports and statements and that they were easy to find. All his documentation was meticulous as always, but he still double checked. He took care to sift through the growing stack of files and sorted them into the appropriate folders. Then he locked them in his desk and put the key under his mousepad. Tess would know where to find it. He contemplated briefly to leave a note with his computer password but decided against it. There had to be a way for them to get past that if needed.

He walked over to the window and stared out for a long time. His tall thin figure was a dark silhouette against the bright light shining in. His forehead rested against the warm glass while his arm cradled the back of his head. He didn't know for how long he'd stayed like that but when he finally moved, he knew it was time to leave.

He plucked his coat off the hook, shrugged it on, and quietly slipped away without anyone noticing.

* * *

There was only one thing on Hardy's mind now that he had left work behind.

He was waiting for Daisy at the school gate. When she saw him, she scrunched up her nose and hurried past him without acknowledging his presence. Hardy took a deep breath and followed her. He wasn't sure he could keep up, but he had to try. Considering what Emily had shared with him in the morning about the risks of the next day's procedure he needed to make peace with Daisy.

It didn't take long until it was clear that he couldn't catch up. He stopped and shouted her name. She slowed down but continued to walk away from him.

"Daisy, please wait for me." He leaned against the fence of the school yard and hoped she would listen. Spinning around, she stormed back and planted herself right in front of him, arms crossed, wearing a scowl.

"What do you want? You know I don't like being picked up like a little girl," she snapped at him.

"I know darlin'. And I'm sorry. I just thought because it seemed okay yesterday when your mother did so, I could –"

"You spied on us?" Her face was flushed red with anger.

Hardy's heart skipped a few beats and he suppressed a flinch. "I didn't spy on you. I meant to take you for tea or something and talk after we had such a bad morning, but I guess your mother beat me to it." He paused, searching her face for any sign of understanding. "I saw the two of you walk away and didn't want to…" He trailed off and dropped his gaze. His ears were burning with the shame of his actions.

"Is that the truth? You were not following us because you're jealous of Mum and me hanging out?" she asked, voice softer now.

He looked up in surprise. "Why would I be jealous of that? Did your mother suggest so?"

She nodded, lips pressed together. He couldn't even be angry, he was so disappointed in Tess.

He sighed and scrubbed down his face with his hands. "Listen, darlin'. Your mother and I have had some issues and I don't know why she would say those things about me, but I can assure you I'm not jealous. She's your mother, Daisy. Why wouldn't I want you to spend time with her?"

She studied the pavement and fidgeted with the zipper of her hoodie jacket. "So you didn't mind?" she mumbled, behind the curtain her reddish brown hair was draping over her face.

"No, I didn't. I was sad though…" - she raised her eyes to meet his - "... because I wanted to talk and apologize for what had happened yesterday morning." He smiled shyly, hoping for her to believe him.

"Oh, Dad. You're so silly sometimes." She threw her arms around him, pushing him against the fence. He cradled her head in his arm and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. She quickly wiggled out of his embrace when a group of her classmates walked by, giggling and poorly hiding their stares.

"Enough public display of affection?" he joked. She snorted and stuck out her tongue. Hardy suppressed a grin.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, happy that they had made peace.

"Mary's Tearoom," she replied without hesitation. It was her other favorite spot to go to besides the coffee shop in their neighborhood. It was close enough to walk there.

"All right. Mary's it is," he agreed, pushing himself off the fence. He slowly started to walk and she fell in step with him.

"Mary's going to strangle you, you know that, Dad, right?"

"And why would she do that?"

"Decaf tea…" Daisy reminded him.

 _Bollocks._ He was dead meat. Mary would never let him live this down.

Daisy nudged him in the side and hooked her arm under his. "Don't worry. She's got a soft spot for me. I've got your back, Dad."

All of a sudden, the corners of his eyes burned with the tears he had to hold back. How much he wished she could go to the cath procedure tomorrow but he didn't dare say anything. He couldn't burden his child with the uncertainties of his fate until he knew for sure. He tugged her closer and forced a smile on his face, hiding his fears and worries.

* * *

"Look who's here? Haven't seen you guys in a while. How have you been Miss Daisy?" Mary had taken it upon herself to wait on their table. She leaned down and gave Daisy a quick hug. Then she stuck out her hand to greet Hardy.

"Alec, how are you?" Her American accent always made his name sound more bearable. There was genuine concern in her voice.

"'M fine," Hardy answered, very well knowing that she might not believe him. They had been coming to Mary's Tearoom ever since Daisy started school and over the years Mary had developed an eerie sense of his moods.

She tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. She shot a quick glance at Daisy's happy face and nodded. Hardy was grateful for her tact.

"You guys want the usual?" she asked instead of quizzing him further.

Hardy and Daisy exchanged a look that didn't go unnoticed.

"Or do you need the menu?"

"You're not gonna like this, but my Dad's taken up drinking decaf tea." Daisy put on her sweetest smile while Hardy's cheeks turned a pale shade of pink. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head and looked up at Mary's incredulous face.

"You're not serious about that?" Mary squinted her eyes at him again and her expression changed ever so slightly. "Always something new I guess." Shrugging, she smiled warmly at Hardy and put her hand on his shoulder. "I think I might have a blend or two you'd enjoy more than the regular decaf, Alec. Why don't you come to the counter and try a few things?"

She invited him with a tilt of her head. Hardy smiled back at her. "Thanks, Mary. I'll be right there." He knew what she really wanted. A chance to talk outside of Daisy's earshot. He was willing to give her the opportunity. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was because of all the times she had comforted Daisy when she came to her crying over being bullied at school. Maybe it was because of all the times she had listened to him when he needed someone to talk to. Or maybe it was because ever since he had arrested the arsonist who had torched her tearoom a few years back, she saw him as part of her adopted family away from home.

He left Daisy at their table and met Mary at the counter.

"Alec, what's going on?" She cut to the chase without fussing about, like she usually did.

"What makes you think that anything is going on?" It was a weak attempt at deflecting and he knew he wouldn't get away with it.

"I read the papers, Alec. But that's not even it. You look like shit, that's what makes me think that something's going on," she answered quietly, while serving him a cup of herbal tea.

Hardy chewed on his lip, contemplating lying, but then he didn't. "I pulled the girl out of the water. It's been hard dealing with that."

Mary's eyes widened. "That's not all though, is it?" she probed gently.

He shook his head. "No. I…" he hesitated, slowly turning the cup with the herbal tea.

"Are you sick, Alec?" Their eyes met. He didn't need to answer.

"Is it serious?" He nodded.

"Does she know?" Mary glanced over his shoulder, resting her gaze on Daisy.

"No. I haven't told her yet." He looked down, holding on tightly to the cup.

"Is that why you brought her here today?"

He stayed mute, not sure of the answer.

"Alec, you have to tell her, if it's that serious. You know how angry she would be if you kept it a secret. She's so attached to you." Mary put her hand on his, encouraging him in any way she could. "Go back and talk to her. I'll bring over your order."

When he was about to turn, she asked one last question. "Is it cancer?"

He found her eyes, shaking his head. "No, Mary. It's my heart."

Mary's lips curled up in a sad smile. "A broken heart. How very Alec Hardy is that?"

Hardy stared at her for a few moments, before he walked back to Daisy. ' _A broken heart'_. How aptly put.

* * *

Hardy sat down at their table. The silence stretched until Daisy huffed.

"Are you gonna say something or do I have to do all the talking?" she asked disgruntled.

Hardy sighed and put his elbows on the table. His hands found each other and he laced his fingers together. He had played out the conversation in his head prior to picking up Daisy, but now that he was confronted with the situation, he very much was at a loss for words.

"Do you want to start with _'I'm sorry my darlin' daughter and will henceforth fulfill all your wishes, no questions asked.'_?" She leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms.

Hardy shot her an upward glance and rolled his eyes at her.

"Fine. We can also just not talk," she went on, her mouth pulled into a pout.

Hardy ran his tongue over his teeth and squirmed in his chair. When Mary brought their order, she nodded encouragingly at him.

"Daisy, I think you dad needs a little bit of nudging today," Mary said kindly.

"That's what I'm trying to do, but it's not working," Daisy grumbled. Mary smiled at them both and poured their tea.

"Why don't you start with asking your dad how his day was? Or tell him about yours?" she suggested.

Hardy and Daisy's eyes locked. Daisy smiled shyly at him and he rubbed the back of his head.

"There you go," Mary cheered her on. She patted Daisy on the back and left them to each other.

"So, how was your day?" Daisy asked with a sigh.

Hardy scrutinized the wooden surface of the table, rearranging the sugar packets in their little bucket. _'Pretty shit. I was told I could die tomorrow'_ didn't sound like a good conversation starter.

"Dad?"

His mouth gaped open but the words didn't want to come out. How could he explain to her what he couldn't quite grasp himself? He remembered why he wanted to talk to her in the first place. To apologize and make amends.

"I'm sorry, I was a jerk yesterday morning. I was tired and annoyed with work. I know that's a poor excuse, but it's the truth. I wanted to listen, but all those damn messages kept distracting me. I'm worried we won't get the killer," he ended quietly. Then he looked up. Her eyes narrowed and she chewed on her lips.

"I've never seen you like this before. This case seems worse than anything else. It's taken up your life, sucking you in more and more," Daisy replied a serious tone in her voice.

Hardy stared at her, stricken by how true her words rang.

She cupped his hand with hers. "Please, Dad. Talk to me. I'm trying to understand but it's been so hard," she pleaded, her hazel eyes wide.

Hardy turned over his hand and held onto hers. He drew upon all his courage and started speaking, slowly and hesitantly.

"I never had to deal with..." He paused, unable to say _'child murder'_ in front of his daughter. He took in a deep breath and tried again. "It's getting to me… the case I mean. It's because the girl that was killed was your age." He found her eyes, searching them for her reaction. She looked at him attentively, face open, encouraging him to go on.

"The case is taking over _everything_. And it really shouldn't. I should be able to be more detached, to not be so absorbed by it all. I want to leave it behind, but it's following me and I don't have the strength to keep it out. It's been so overwhelming. I've been so exhausted and not exactly feeling well." He stopped abruptly, reaching too close to the topic he wasn't sure he could talk about. He tightened his grasp of her fingers and held her gaze despite the urge to run away from it all.

"I'm so sorry, darlin'. I haven't been there for you or your mother lately and that's not all right." He hung his head in shame. "I've been a lousy father," he breathed, his heart heavy with the emotion.

"No, you're not." Her answer was quiet but utterly sincere. She pushed her chair closer and placed her palm on his tense back. "Don't you ever think that," she added, resting her head on his shoulder.

After a few minutes of silence, she eventually picked up the conversation again. "Can I ask you something?" He nodded, his head against hers.

"Are you having nightmares?"

Hardy moved and looked down at her head. "Aye," he admitted tonelessly. "What makes you think that?"

"I heard you scream yesterday morning," she answered. Hardy sucked in some air, fighting tears.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You often seem so jumpy these days and so tired all the time. Made me wonder if you haven't been sleeping well. Nightmares seemed like a valid explanation. So is the stress of the case," she reasoned, sadness making her sound older than she was. Or maybe she had matured in all those weeks that her parents had not paid that much attention to her. For the briefest of moments he considered telling her what his dark dreams were about but then refrained from doing so. It was not a burden that she should share.

The conversation was taking a toll on his frail state, emotionally and physically. It was surprising that he was still sitting up, considering that his heart had decided to forgo any reasonable approach to beating properly in his chest since Daisy and he had started to talk. He dragged his fingers down his face and up again, burying his face in his palms. He swallowed a sob, but she had already noticed.

"It's all right, Dad." She rubbed his back and snuggled closer. "You don't have to hold it in."

Again, they sat in silence while she comforted him and he and his faulty heart eventually calmed down. His exhausted mind was wandering, circling back to something she had said earlier.

He straightened his body and made sure she was looking at him. There was something he needed to put right.

"Daisy, I need you to believe me when I'm telling you that I am not jealous of your relationship with your mother." She took in a deep breath and held it in, jaw clenched down. He smiled and brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

"It's quite the contrary. I enjoy watching the two of you together and I'm very happy that you're having so much fun. You and I - we've always been close. I realize that this is changing - and I'll be honest with you - that does make me sad at times. I get it, you're growing up and having your old grumpy dad around all the time is a bit annoying. I'm no good at talking about feelings, certainly not when it comes to my own, but there is one feeling that is very easy for me to express. I love you, more than anything in this world besides your mother and I will always be there for you." His voice broke with his last words. It was a promise that wasn't as easy to make any more. His fear tightened his chest, a stark reminder of his new reality of wearing his emotions on his sleeves as his body refused to hide his inner workings.

Daisy was in tears.

"Oh, darlin', please don't." He brushed her cheek with his thumb. Then he pulled her close, letting her bury her face against his chest.

"Bollocks, this is way too soppy." Her voice was muffled and hoarse from crying. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. And as much as she had seemed older to Hardy earlier, seeing her all snotty and puffy eyed, he could only think of her as his little girl.

"It's just that there are some things that are easier to talk to Mum about. And also easier to do with her. Doesn't mean I feel different about you or us. I love you, Dad. And nothing can ever change that."

They looked at each other, hazel eyes meeting. Hardy mirrored Daisy's smile and for the first time that day, he felt hopeful that his life could work out after all. He looked up and noticed Mary watching them. Her lips curled up and she nodded approvingly. They finished their tea and scones chatting about Daisy's school, her latest ballet endeavors and her plans for the summer holiday.

Hardy had paid and was about to get up, when Daisy held him back with a hand on his arm. He looked at her worried face and wondered what was troubling her.

"What is it, darlin'?"

She took in a deep breath. "Dad, are you ill?"

Hardy fell back onto his chair. That was not a question he had been expecting. The stutter in his chest mocked him. He didn't speak for what seemed a long time.

"Why're you asking?" he mumbled finally.

"Because I have eyes in my head. You look like shit, Dad. You passed out in front of me and you haven't been yourself lately. That's why." She sounded almost offended.

Hardy swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I've been working too much."

"Not good enough. I don't buy it," she retorted.

Hardy felt the color leave his face. What was he going to tell her?

"Daisy, I…" He paused, desperately trying to find the right words. "I've not been well. The stress is making me ill. Not sleeping is making me ill."

She squinted her eyes at him, doubt written all over her face. He had a choice. He could lie to her or be honest. Emily's plea to tell his family, especially his daughter was burning in his mind.

"I've been seeing a doctor, Daisy. She's making sure I'm taking care of any health issues." He searched her face. The doubt had disappeared, giving way to concern. He put on a smile that he didn't quite feel. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

She got up without saying a word. He wasn't sure if she believed him or not. It was the best he could do until he finally talked to her mother that night. When they left Mary's Tearoom, they had made peace, but Hardy's heart was still heavy, his secrets weighing him down.

* * *

Daisy gave him a questioning look when he called for a cab to go home instead of driving himself, but didn't ask. They reached their home when it was getting dark. Daisy ran up the driveway, barged through the door and threw her backpack and jacket on the floor. Hardy trailed behind, tired from another long day. He sighed when he tripped over his child's belongings, bent down and picked up after her like he had done a million times before. Lost in his gloomy thoughts, he was stroking her jacket when she hollered something from the kitchen. He shook himself free from the feeling of things ending and followed his daughter's call.

"What do you want to cook?" she asked, sticking her head deep into the fridge.

"Daisy, you know I'm banned from the stove unless it's related to making breakfast," he grumbled.

She popped her head out from behind the fridge door, wearing a broad grin. "You might be, but I'm not. Catch!" She threw a bag with carrots at him which he clumsily clutched against his chest. "Are you still allowed to wield a knife?" she teased.

Hardy snorted, but obediently grabbed a knife and cutting board. He only managed to nick his fingers twice and didn't spill his blood all over the vegetables that Daisy had piled up in front of him. She had pulled out a pan and was boiling pasta. He had no idea what she was cooking but it smelled delicious while it was simmering on the stove.

His mobile buzzed in his pocket. Tess wasn't going to make it for dinner. Someone had phoned in about the stalker and they needed to go question the person. Hardy stared at the message, not moving a muscle, until Daisy put a hand on his back.

"Dad, you look like you've seen a ghost," she joked but there was concern hidden underneath.

Hardy swallowed around the lump in his throat. What was he supposed to do if Tess didn't show up? He needed to talk to her and it wasn't a conversation he could manage over the phone. His chest tightened.

"Mum's not coming home. She got held up at work," he let Daisy know. He could hear the disappointment in his voice.

Daisy rubbed her hand up and down his back. "It's all right, Dad. That means we can watch some 'Bruce' without her annoying comments." She was trying to cheer him up and he gave her a weak smile.

"Sure. Just was looking forward to spending some time together," he muttered under his breath. She hugged him, catching him by surprise.

"Maybe tomorrow instead then?" she suggested. Hardy's heart jolted. However his next day would look like, a happy family dinner wasn't going to be part of it.

"Yah, maybe tomorrow," he said quietly.

The pasta boiled over.

"Shit," Daisy exclaimed and abruptly let go of her father. Hardy's arm dropped away from her, weakly falling alongside his body. He silently watched her save the pasta and finish the cooking, marveling at how big she'd gotten and how grown up she was. When she put down his bowl with the steaming food in front of him, he caught her wrist and pulled her close. He pressed a kiss on her head.

"Thanks, darlin'." Their hazel eyes met and they mirrored each other's gorgeous smiles. He opened his mouth, but she shushed him up.

"If you say something soppy, you're not getting dessert," she threatened before he could indulge in any further affirmation of his love for his daughter. Instead he hid a grin and enjoyed the first proper meal in days. Apparently he ate enough growing food as he was allowed to have a whole bowl of ice cream when they retreated to the sofa to watch _Thor_ for the fourth time together.

* * *

Daisy had gone upstairs to get ready for bed and Hardy was brooding over his phone.

He had texted Emily earlier that Tess wasn't going to be home until late and that she shouldn't bother coming by. He'd tell her by himself. Emily's reply had been encouraging and reminded him to be at the hospital by no later than 7 A.M. and not to eat or drink anything after midnight.

There was one other person he should be talking to. His oldest and best friend who'd been by his side for so long. He made sure to close the door to the living room before he dialed the number.

"Alec? You never call this late. What's the matter?" Duncan was alarmed instantaneously.

"Nothing. Just felt like talking," Hardy evaded the question. He fell heavily onto the sofa.

Duncan snorted into the phone. "Seriously? I don't believe you. Out with it before I have to yell at you."

"Saw my doctor this morning," Hardy said tonelessly. He closed his eyes, resting a hand over his face.

"Oh right, the procedure. It's tomorrow, isn't it?" Duncan reminded himself. There was water running in the background.

"Aye," came Hardy's monosyllabic answer.

"How's the family taking it?" Duncan inquired, with a muffled voice. There was a scrubbing sound and a clatter. The noises grated on Hardy's nerves.

"Duncan, what the hell are you doing?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Brushing teeth. It's late, gotta take Cory to London tomorrow, remember?"

"Could you stop doing that? It's annoying," Hardy snarled into the phone.

There was silence on the other end. "Alec, what's really going on?" Duncan probed gently.

Hardy opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His heart heavy, he told his friend what Emily had explained to him earlier.

"She thinks there is a real risk of me not surviving the procedure," he ended his tale, voice not more than a whisper.

Duncan was breathing heavily into the phone. It clearly wasn't what he'd expected when Hardy called him. It took him a while to compose himself. For once, Hardy was faster with his words than his friend.

"'M sorry, Duncan. Shouldn't have rang like this. I didn't want to…" – he faltered for a split second – "… go without talking to you one more time. Say thanks for everything, I guess."

He had leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. His head was resting in his hand, fingers rubbing over his stinging eyes.

"I don't wanna hear it, Alec," Duncan growled defiantly into the phone.

Hardy sighed. "Please, Duncan. Don't be like that. All I meant to do is…" His voice broke, unable to articulate his wish to have a chance to say goodbye to the man who was like a brother to him.

Duncan made a funny noise and Hardy wondered if he was crying on the other side. The two men sat in silence for a while, each hanging onto their own thoughts. Finally, Duncan spoke, his voice softer than Hardy had ever heard it.

"Alec, you know how much you mean to me. You've been my best friend for almost three decades, you're the godfather of my children, you saved my life…" He fell silent for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths, struggling with his emotions.

"But if you think you can use your stupid heart as an excuse to bail out on me, then you're wrong. You better be your usual stubborn self and refuse to budge. Because if you don't, I'll come and slap some sense into your thick Scottish brain. Do you hear me, you bloody eejit?" By now Duncan was crying and shouting at the same time. The soft voice had been replaced by a rough tremble and his accent was more pronounced than ever.

Duncan wasn't the only one crying. Hardy wiped at his face. "Did I really have to get a deadly heart condition before you acknowledge that being stubborn isn't a bad thing?" he joked meekly.

Duncan huffed. "Good lord, you seriously have to work on your witty come backs. My four-year-old can do better than that. In fact _your_ formerly four-year-old does better than that, at least judging by what my boy tells me."

Hardy's ears perked up. "Your boy? Is he talking about Daisy?" He cringed at the pitch shift in his voice. _You're a moron, Hardy_ , he scolded himself.

Duncan chortled. "Do I hear paternal fears ringing in these words?"

"Ach, just wait until Fiona is that age," Hardy retorted. That shut Duncan up quickly.

After a brief pause, Duncan asked quietly, "Have you told her?"

"No," Hardy confessed, voice rough.

"Are you going to?"

It took Hardy a long time to be able to admit to the truth. "I can't." He paused. "I can't burden her with something that might not even happen."

"Hm," was all that Duncan said. And after another long silence, he added, "I get that. I don't think I could either. But I did appreciate the chance to talk to you tonight. Maybe she deserves the same?"

Hardy slowly closed his eyes and slumped back on the sofa. "She does," he breathed. "But I don't have it in me. My _heart_ doesn't have it in it. Literally."

"I see. Caught between a rock and a hard place, ey?"

"Yup," Hardy sighed.

"It's all right, Alec. You'll do fine tomorrow and then all of this was a non-issue. Be ready for her to be mad at you though that you didn't tell her," Duncan reminded him.

"I'll gladly take that if it means I'll still be around," Hardy replied with much less sarcasm than he had intended to. Duncan hummed in agreement.

"So, is Tess coming with you then?" he wanted to know.

Hardy stayed mute. It was almost midnight and Tess wasn't home yet.

"Alec? You _have_ told her, right?" Duncan questioned with a stern voice.

"Not yet," Hardy conceded subdued.

"For fuck's sake, are you out of your mind?" Duncan yelled into the phone. "It's one thing not to tell your child, but your _wife_?"

"She hasn't come home yet. I had a deal with my doctor to help me, but Tess got held up at work," Hardy defended himself weakly.

"You guys are still arguing all the time?" Duncan asked.

"Too often, that's for sure."

Duncan groaned and Hardy could picture his exasperated face as if he was in front of him.

"You're unbelievable. You better stay up until she gets there and you can finally explain yourself and ask for help. God, I really wish I could be there to slap you, you moron. How you survive without me being around is a mystery to me." Duncan grumbled.

Hardy didn't say anything, knowing that his friend didn't expect an answer.

There was a knock on the door and Daisy stuck her head in.

"Dad. I'm going to bed," she whispered not wanting to disturb him on the phone.

He mouthed _'be right there'_ and gestured for her to close the door. Once she was gone he turned his attention back to his friend.

"Duncan, I've got to go. Want to say good night to Daisy," he added as an explanation.

Duncan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right then. Good luck tomorrow. Text me how it went," he ordered Hardy.

Hardy swallowed. "I will. And thanks for everything."

"You're welcome," Duncan replied fondly.

"Bye, Duncan." Hardy's voice was betraying his feelings.

"You know I love you, Alec. And I expect your sorry arse to be around for much longer. Is that understood?"

"Aye," was all Hardy could say.

"I'll talk to you soon. Bye for now," Duncan said gently and hung up the phone before Hardy could add anything else. He stared at the dark screen until his eyes were dry and he felt strong enough to wish his daughter a good night.

* * *

Hardy hesitated before knocking on her door. His knuckles hovered over the wooden sign that spelled out Daisy's name in animal letters. Tracing the hippo that shaped the 'D' with his fingers, he idly wondered how much longer that remnant of her childhood would withstand the storm of teenaged independence and fast stream towards adulthood. He closed his eyes, blinking away the stinging tears. He might never know.

 _Stop it_ , he told himself, drawing upon all the love he had for his daughter to pull himself together. He mustn't scare her. That shouldn't be last thing she remembered about her father. He knocked and slowly opened the door.

She was lying on her side in her bed, hunched over a book. He spotted the purple unicorn wedged into a corner and smiled. The night stand lamp bathed her in a soft light. Her hair was falling over her face and onto the edge of the book. She seemed too engrossed in her story to notice him. His eyes rested on his child, committing every detail to his memory.

Quietly, he stepped up to the bed and lowered himself onto the edge.

"What're you reading?" he inquired, voice low, Scottish accent thick.

Her head jerked up. "Oh, Dad. I didn't hear you come in." She grinned and showed him the book.

Hardy's eyebrows went up. "Haven't you read that a million times by now?"

"So? Haven't you?" she threw his question back at him. His lips curled up. He sure had. He took the book out of her hand, keeping it open on the page she'd been reading.

"Do you mind?" he asked. She shook her head and made room for him to scoot closer. She must have just started as she was at the beginning of the first chapter. He put his arm around her and she snuggled up against his chest like she had when she was a little child. His warm baritone sounded across the room when he began to read to his daughter.

"' _It will be a bad night,' said Mr. Dawson. 'There's Old George with the hay', said James. 'Come on, Will.'_

' _You go,' the farmer said. 'I want Will to pick up something for your mother from the house.' But he did not move, as James pushed the handcart off towards the barn; he stood with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his old tweed jacket, looking at the darkening sky._

' _The Walker is abroad,' he said again. 'And this night will be bad, and tomorrow will be beyond imagining._ '"

Hardy's voice faltered. He had forgotten how foreboding the first chapter of _"The Dark Is Rising"_ was. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything, and took in a deep breath. When he opened them again, Daisy's gaze was fixed on him.

"Dad?" The single word carried more trepidation than he could bear. He pulled her closer and hid his face in her hair, pressing a kiss on the crown of her head.

"Sorry, darlin'. I remembered when I read it to you for the first time and you got all scared. A bit soppy, I know." It wasn't even a lie. He had thought of her initial reaction to one of his favorite childhood books when he began reading the passage but that wasn't why he couldn't go on.

She gave him an inquisitive look but didn't question further. "Yeah, a bit. You and your silly heart. One day that'll be the end of you," she teased, poking his chest. "I should make you a sign for your desk – DI Hardy – a grumpy grouch by day and a sentimental numpty by night."

She grinned and he almost choked on his stifled sob. He sputtered and coughed, while she patted his back.

"There, there, Dad. It was just a joke. Don't die on me here," she huffed while trying not to laugh.

His eyes were boring into her and he inwardly cursed the cruelty of the universe that had made her choose those words. Once he recovered, he wordlessly gestured for her to come back to his side. She complied and he picked up the book again. He read to her until she was getting heavy in his arm, breathing deeply now. He stopped and looked down at his sleeping child. The book slid out of his hands and she'd be mad at him the next day for not putting a mark on the page they'd left off.

He rested his head on hers for a few moments longer, then carefully pulled his body out from under her. She stirred and muttered "Good night, Dad," snuggling into her pillow. He tucked the blanket around her and stroked her hair. "Good night, darlin'," he breathed into her ear. Then he kissed her forehead, his lips lingering until a tear dropped onto her skin. He gently wiped it away with his thumb, while turning off the light with his other hand. Before he moved away from the bed, he whispered, "I love you, always."

The door closed quietly behind him and he sneaked down the stairs to wait for his wife to come home, hoping for solace in her loving embrace.

* * *

 **A/N:** I have to admit that writing this chapter took sort of a toll on me. There are so many moments in there were I choked up a bit because these characters are so close to my heart by now. I had the scene where Alec and Daisy talk in the tearoom in my head for months and I knew I would be emotional about it. And so I was. But the bedtime scene was what really got to me. Full disclosure, I made myself cry while typing it up. I apologize for any tears that I might have caused and I am fully aware that the chapter is quite soppy and that Daisy would not approve, but as the song that gave inspiration for the name of the story says – 'You already know, how it ends' - things in Alec's life are ending. Please feel free to yell and scream at me. Hazelmist already did (quote of the day: YOU ARE KILLLLLLINNNNGGG MEEE ONE FREAKING LINE AT A TIME!).

Oh, and believe it or not – when I was thinking about which book to pick for them to read, I ended up choosing "The Dark Is Rising" because it was one of my favorites as a child. I swear, I randomly opened the book and the first paragraph I looked at was the one that ended up in the story. Just like Alec, I had forgotten how foreboding it was and I was blown away about the coincidence of it fitting so well.


	28. CHAPTER 27

**A/N:** Thanks for all the comments about the last chapter! I hope you all have recovered. Please take a deep breath and then read on… *hands out more complementary tissues*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 27**

A rattling noise filtered through his drowning mind. It stopped. Then it started again. Hardy's eyes jerked open. A sudden pain in his chest took away the little bit of air that was left after a violent coughing spell had shaken his body. Barely able to calm down, he located where the sound was coming from. His mobile was buzzing on the broken glass table.

He struggled to reach for it. It slid through his fingers and fell on the floor, going off a third time. Hardy groaned and rolled over on the sofa. He stretched out his long arm, patting blindly for the phone. Finally, his fingers curled around it and he dragged it slowly towards his head as if it was a heavy weight.

"Hardy," he breathed hoarsely into the speaker.

"Did I wake you, sir?" Swenson's chipper voice greeted him.

Hardy moaned instead of answering. He briefly held the phone at a distance to squint at the time – 4:11 A.M. – and put it back to his ear. Too tired, he didn't sit or move, while he willed his heart to settle. He wasn't very successful.

"I'm sorry to ring you this early, but I thought you would want to know right away." She paused and despite his drowsiness the image of an eager puppy proudly jumping up and down in front of him popped up in his mind.

"Go on," he prompted her, voice gravelly. "Or are you holding back for dramatic effect?"

"Sorry, no I'm not… I mean… maybe… you were right though…," his DC stuttered, flustered by his sarcastic remark.

"Swenson!" he growled impatiently.

"Right. We found the car!" she revealed with a victorious undertone.

Hardy sat up quickly, sending the world around him spinning. "Did you get SOCO to search it?"

"No, we –"

"What are you waiting for? Seriously, you should –"

"Sir, we don't have it yet," she hurried to explain. "We know where it is though. Thanks to your brilliant idea of putting a trace on Claire Ripley. She led us to the place Ashworth sold it at and from there we were able to track down the new owner. We're in the process of locating him and the car, but this time at least we know where to look."

Hardy scrubbed a hand over his face. Of all days, they had to find the stupid car on this day. "Any idea how long it's going to take to do that?"

His thoughts were racing. He should be there, to make sure everything was handled properly. The chances of finding any evidence were slim, but at least there _was_ one. The continued erratic thudding of his heart and the tingling in his hands made it very clear though that he might not be able to, even if he dragged himself along.

"I don't know, sir. Hopefully, we'll find it in time before we have to let Ashworth go," Swenson stated.

The vertigo made him nauseated and he could feel bile rising in his throat. "Swenson, I've got to go," he pressed through clenched teeth. "I'll let you know who's going to be there from the lead team. Keep me posted, would you please." He gagged, cupping his mouth with his hand. He muttered "Good work," and hung up not giving her a chance to reply.

Stumbling over his own feet, he made it to the guest bathroom. He clung to the toilet bowl and retched up whatever was left in his empty stomach. His limbs were shaking while he sank to the floor, patting down his pockets for his pills. Emily had told him not to eat or drink anything but that couldn't include his medications? He dry swallowed the pills and hoped they would stay down. After he had settled down a bit, he pulled himself up, hanging onto the sink. He rinsed out his mouth and washed his face. The cold water sent shivers down his tired body.

Then he slowly padded back to the living room where yet again he had fallen asleep while waiting for Tess to come home. The procedure was supposed to happen in three hours from now and he still hadn't talked to his wife. Anxiety was raising his heart rate and he collapsed onto the sofa. He had no idea what to do. He needed to finish the job he'd begun but if he didn't take care of himself, he'd never be able to make it through the end. The inability to make a decision left him paralyzed and panic was taking hold over him.

His phone that he'd dropped onto the cushion was poking his thigh uncomfortably and he fished it out from under him. Without thinking any further, he dialed Baxter's number.

* * *

Baxter eyed the display of his mobile. Hardy better had a very good reason for ringing him at half four in the morning.

"Alec, why the hell are you calling me?" he barked into the phone. Louise, his wife, rolled her eyes when she heard who was disturbing their sleep. Maybe he shouldn't have complained so much about the obstinate Scot the previous evening.

"They've found the trace of the car. We'll have it within a few hours," Hardy answered with much less enthusiasm than what Baxter would have expected.

Baxter sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes. "That's fantastic, Alec. Why the mopey tone?"

"I should be there when they search it, shouldn't I?" Hardy stated, a sharp edge to his voice.

Baxter's brain was still recovering from sleep inertia. "Of course you should. Why wouldn't you?" he asked, yawning loudly into the phone.

There was silence on the other end.

"Alec?"

"I…," Hardy trailed off and Baxter could have sworn there was a choking noise.

And that's when it hit Baxter. The damn heart procedure was today. Baxter closed his eyes briefly, cursed under his breath, and then said, "Alec, don't even think about it. There are more than enough qualified people around to babysit SOCO while they are conducting a car search."

"But –" Hardy tried to cut in.

"No but. Under no circumstances are you allowed to come to work today. The only thing that you _are_ going to do is get that procedure done and have your ticker fixed. That's an order." Baxter's stern voice must have fallen on some fruitful ground, because Hardy growled "Aye" and didn't protest any further.

"Who in your team do you want to take the lead?" Baxter flipped through the options in his own head. Tess was obviously out, but DS Thompson should do the trick or maybe DC Swenson. It didn't register at first what Hardy's answer was.

"Sorry, Alec. What did you say?"

"I said, the only one I trust besides you is Tess," Hardy replied quietly.

"Fine. I can be there, if you insist." Baxter didn't feel like it, but he'd do it for his friend. "How long until they think we'll be able to lay hands on it?" Maybe he could get a decent breakfast in before dragging himself into the field. Might be fun, he hadn't done it in years. His musings were interrupted by Hardy's sudden outburst.

"I haven't told her yet." Hardy was panting on the other end.

Baxter's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?" he snapped into the phone. Louise shot him a puzzled look and he made a strangling motion, mouthing _'I'm going to kill him'_. Louise sniggered quietly.

"I didn't get a chance last night. She never came home and I fell asleep and now the procedure is in less than three hours and I'm so stressed out about the thought of telling her _now_ that it all might become a moot point and I might not even make it there." Hardy stopped, catching his breath.

His speech had been pressured and the combination of his hastily expelled words with an increasing Scottish accent left Baxter guessing about half of what he'd said. The message was clear though. Baxter had to admit, Hardy didn't sound like he could handle much more. The wheezing gasps on the other end of his mobile worried him more with each heartbeat that passed.

Regardless, Baxter wanted to throttle his friend. Badly. But just like a few days ago in the park, his instincts told him that Hardy needed something else. "Do you want me to come with you and send Tess to deal with the car search?" he proposed gently.

"Would you?" Hardy croaked.

"When do you need to be there?" Baxter asked with a resigned voice, sighing inwardly. This was a shit plan, but in a way so typical for Hardy.

"No later than 7 A.M., better by half six," Hardy muttered. Baxter noted with relief that Hardy's breathing had calmed down.

He groaned. Bloody doctors and their unreasonable need for an early start. So much for a nice breakfast. Still holding onto the phone he got up and gathered his things. At least he'd have time for a shower.

"I'll pick you up by a quarter till six. Be ready at your door," Baxter growled into the phone. "And you'll have to tell Tess that she's in charge but needs to report to me. Hopefully they'll let me use my phone in the hospital. What reason are you going to give her why you won't be there?"

"Dunno," Hardy mumbled. Baxter could almost see the sheepish glance and picture him rubbing the back of his thick head.

"For God's sake, Alec, at least tell her that you have a doctor's appointment or something. I don't want her to not have the slightest idea where are you are. What if I had to call her and tell her that something –"

"Fine," Hardy interrupted, not letting him finish his morbid thought.

"All right then. Get something to eat while you wait," Baxter tried to distract from what had been unsaid.

"Can't. Not allowed to have food before the procedure. No tea either," Hardy whined. Baxter softened with Hardy's forlorn tone. How lonely he must be, there in his house, still hiding what could happen today from his family.

"Did you talk to Daisy?" Baxter inquired carefully.

"Aye. We talked and made peace. I read her a book last night until she fell asleep." It always amazed Baxter how Hardy's rough Scottish tongue turned into a soft purr when he talked about his daughter. A smile played around the corners of his mouth.

"I'm glad you did. I'll see you in a bit. Bye Alec."

"Bye. Oh and… thanks, Ed." Hardy hung up quickly. Sitting down on the bed, Baxter dropped the phone with a big sigh and buried his face in his hands.

Louise's hand sneaked around his shoulders. Her thumb rubbed the groove above his collar bone. "What's going on?" she asked curiously.

Baxter snorted. "Alec Hardy is driving me nuts."

Louise chortled. "What else is new?" Baxter looked up into her smiling eyes.

"Yup," was all he said when he got ready for what he was sure would be a long day.

* * *

Hardy held onto his mobile. Baxter's reminder that Tess should at least have some idea where her husband was going to be while she took over made his chest feel tighter than it already had. His friend was right though. He had procrastinated until he couldn't hold out any longer. Gathering his courage, he pushed up from the sofa and silently padded upstairs.

The door was ajar, allowing for a thin sliver of light to penetrate the dark in the room. His gaze was caught by Tess' half lit face. Her mouth was slightly open and her chest was rising and falling with her breaths. Maybe it was the awareness of where he was headed to today or maybe the fluorescent light from the hallway making her look paler than usual that triggered Hardy's memory. His thoughts drifted back to a day thirteen years ago, the day she'd survived the life-threatening bleeding after giving birth to Daisy. They had finally brought her back from the operating room and he was waiting for her to wake up. Daisy was snuggled against his chest, safe and reminding him of life and happiness. When Tess finally stirred, he kissed her and placed Daisy in the crook of her arm, knowing that his daughter should be with her mother, despite him immediately missing her warm little body. Watching his sleeping wife, he knew Daisy would be fine, as long as one of them was around. And maybe it was time to hand her over to her mother.

With a heavy heart, he stepped up to the bed and carefully sat down. His hand brushed over her hair and shoulder.

"Tess," he whispered. She didn't stir. He smiled. She'd always been a deep sleeper.

He gently tugged on her arm. "Tess," he repeated, louder this time. She moaned and turned over.

"Love, please wake up," he urged her. She uncoordinatedly swatted at his hand.

"Leave me alone, Alec, it's too early," she grumbled, voice muffled by her pillow.

"You can go back to sleep in a minute. I need to tell you something," Hardy insisted softly.

She rolled onto her back and lazily looked at him through half-opened eyes.

"They've tracked down the car. We should get to it in a few hours," Hardy explained.

Her eyes opened fully. "It's about time," she yawned. "Why're you telling me now? Can't it wait until the morning?" There was annoyance in her voice.

"'Cause they'll be calling you once they've got it and you need to know," Hardy replied, squirming at the edge of the bed. A questioning frown crept onto her face.

"Tess, I have a doctor's appointment today that I sort of can't miss. Baxter is making me go." He'd apologize later to Baxter for using him as an excuse. "He wants you to keep him updated about any progress."

"Oh. All right, I'll keep you guys posted," she mumbled sleepily, turning back and hiding her face in her pillow.

Hardy's hand reached for her hair again and ran his fingers over her scalp. Half asleep, she let out a soft growl like Hardy knew she would. He smiled. He didn't stop until she'd slipped away into her own world of dreams. He bent over his wife's head and pressed a kiss on her temple.

"Bye, my love," he whispered into her ear.

He rose from the bed, grabbed his clothes and left her behind in the warm bed.

* * *

Hardy showered, shaved, properly combed his unruly hair and slicked his fringe back. Then he put on a button down shirt that Tess had bought for him, a tie that Daisy had given him for his last birthday and his favorite suit. He brought a small hold all with some more comfortable clothes for after the procedure.

Before he went downstairs to be picked up by Baxter he took another quick peek into the bedroom. Tess was fast asleep. His gaze lingered on her slender form that so often had given him comfort and consolation. Not today though, but hopefully tomorrow.

Then he sneaked into Daisy's bedroom. She was entangled in her blankets, one leg sticking out over the edge of the mattress. She'd always been a restless sleeper, and many times they would find her upside down in the bed by the morning. He gently pushed her foot back under the covers, straightening out the sheets and duvet. To his surprise, the unicorn was snuggled into her arms. Like so often when he checked on her during the night, he brushed her hair out of her face. His lips caressed her forehead, a quick peck this time. He didn't trust himself and he didn't want to wake her up. With one last look, he closed her door.

He tiptoed downstairs, put on his shoes and coat and left the comfort of his home. Sitting on his front stoop, he waited in the dark cold morning to start the day that could change his life forever.

* * *

They rode in silence to the hospital. Hardy felt Baxter's glance on him several times but he didn't turn and continued staring out into the grey morning light. He was grateful that his friend didn't try to make conversation.

Baxter held him back right when they reached the large glass sliding doors. The same doors he had accompanied Baxter through almost a decade ago on that night Baxter had believed his child would die.

"Alec, no matter what happens today, you know you can always count on me. To support you and your family," Baxter said in a hushed voice. Hardy could feel his cheeks heating up and before he could get his frazzled mind to produce a proper answer, Baxter had pulled him into a tight hug. It was quick, but heartfelt. When Baxter let go of him, the two men exchanged an embarrassed smile.

"Right. Let's go or you'll be late. God, how I hate these early appointments. I mean, why can't doctors act like civilized human beings and start their days at a reasonable time. Nine o'clock would be nice. Eight could be acceptable. But no, it has to be this ungodly hour. Doesn't even leave enough time for breakfast. No wonder that patients are grumpy. And then they dare to complain that they are not being treated with respect," Baxter ranted while they were walking through the hallway.

Hardy was flabbergasted. He'd never heard his boss babble like this. It was usually him who would go off on a rant when he was nervous enough to lose the internal filter that kept his mouth disconnected from his wandering brain. He stopped.

"Ed," he called Baxter who was storming ahead. Baxter spun around, his face pale and eyes wide. It had never occurred to Hardy that being back in this hospital and keeping him company during a risky procedure might remind his friend of a very dark time in his life.

"What?" Baxter snapped.

"Thank you for doing this. It can't be easy to be here. I really appreciate it," Hardy muttered under his breath, not quite looking at Baxter. Baxter stared at him, grey eyes cloudy and wild. Then Hardy looked up and a small grin played over his face. "I think it's a conspiracy. They know a proper human can't function without tea in the morning. They make you get up at the crack of dawn and tell you to not eat or drink anything, so by the time they get their hands on you, you're all mellow and won't argue. Clever."

Baxter's mouth gaped open. He wasn't used to Hardy making jokes. Then his expression changed into a smirk. "Precisely."

He stepped up to Hardy and clasped his shoulder, gently nudging him onward. They both seemed to be more relaxed by the time they reached the cardiology reception area. Hardy signed in and they waited in silence until he was called in. Baxter had promised to stay with him as long as they allowed him to. His quiet presence made the walk towards the doors of the exam room feel like less of a daunting task.

Baxter stayed outside the door while Hardy changed into the hospital gown. Maybe one day they'd make one that was long enough to cover at least part of his legs. He felt rather self-conscious when he called Baxter back in.

A grin was brightening his friend's face.

"Don't you dare say a word," Hardy growled, tugging on the gown.

"Why? I was only going to say that this is perfect for a Scot. What are you wearing un –" Baxter never got to finish because Hardy whacked him on the arm and barked, "Ah, shut it."

Baxter chortled right when Emily Abbott walked through the door.

"Well, hello, someone's awfully happy for an early morning like this," she greeted them.

Hardy and Baxter exchanged a glance and Hardy mumbled, "See, conspiracy." Then they both broke out in laughter. Emily eyes flicked back and forth between the two. She pulled up an eyebrow, crossed her arms and waited until they had settled down.

"I'm glad that you're in a good mood, Alec. Would you like to introduce your friend?" she said. There was an undertone in her voice that Hardy couldn't quite place.

"Emily, this is Ed Baxter, a good friend and also my boss. Ed, this is Dr. Abbott, my cardiologist," Hardy complied.

Emily took Baxter's hand reluctantly, eyeing him with a frown. Hardy was confused why she'd be so standoffish, despite her usual very friendly disposition.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Abbott. I know you were expecting someone else. Believe me, so was I." Baxter shot Hardy a daggered glance.

"I see we're on the same page, Mr. Baxter," Emily replied and joined Baxter in staring Hardy down.

 _Great._ They were already ganging up on him and the day hadn't even started yet.

"What?" he pouted, very well knowing what the two were thinking about.

Baxter sighed. "Dr. Abbott, someone should give you a medal. You must be a saint to take care of this stubborn knob over there."

"Well, you're his boss. Maybe we should share it?" Emily suggested, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Hardy grumbled.

"Is he always like this?" Emily asked, ignoring Hardy completely.

"Yup. He has worse days though." Baxter tried to keep a straight face when he heard Hardy's snort.

"Are we doing this procedure or are the two of you going to stand there and wallow in self-pity?" Hardy growled.

"Did he say something?" Baxter asked, winking at Emily.

"Possibly," Emily conceded, smirking.

Hardy groaned and plopped onto the exam table. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself. He should have known better. Of course the two would have a go at him. Baxter had probably been waiting for this opportunity for the last decade.

"I think he's mad at us," Emily stated, gesturing with her head towards Hardy. A snort confirmed her assessment.

"That's all right. It's his default state to be grumpy, especially if he didn't get his tea in the morning. I wouldn't pay attention to it. He's a good boy and –"

"That's it. I'm not a _'good boy'_ ," Hardy exploded and jumped off the table. Unfortunately, his angry outburst was somewhat thwarted by the fact that the white crinkle paper was sticking to his bare skin and entangled his long legs completely. Being tripped up, he looked less than graceful when he caught his lanky body against Baxter.

Emily bit down on her lips to hold back laughter, but Baxter couldn't. There was a faint smile flicking over Hardy's face.

"I appreciate your eagerness, but please don't hurt yourself, Alec. I need you in one piece when we do the cath." Emily's tone of voice was back to more serious matters. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. A nurse was picking him up to get an echocardiography before they would get started.

"I'll see you after it's done and then we'll go over what's going to happen during the cath and the pacemaker placement," Emily said.

"Oh, so you're doing that for sure?" Baxter asked in surprise. "Thought that was a maybe." His questioning look rested on Hardy whose face turned red.

"Erm…" Hardy stuttered, looking anywhere but at his friend.

"Alec! You didn't tell him? Jesus, you're impossible," Emily exclaimed in exasperation.

"No. He said it's a consideration," Baxter sighed, still taking in Hardy. His voice was soft when he continued, "It's all right though. We talked about what needed to be talked about. I'm here no matter what happens, Alec."

Hardy raised his eyes to Baxter's who was smiling at him and giving him a reassuring nod. And despite all the anxiety and rising panic, Hardy felt calm for the first time that day.

* * *

Hardy was back in the room, perched on the exam table. It was cold in there and he shivered. For the tenth time or so he was annoyed by the fact that the gown didn't have pockets where he could hide his restless hands in. He ripped off another piece of crinkle paper.

"Stop it, Alec. You're driving me crazy with the fidgeting," Baxter scolded him.

"Fine," he pouted and crossed his arms. It didn't last long before his fingers found their way back to the paper. Baxter's hand clamped down on Hardy's.

"It's going to be okay. _You're_ going to be okay," he reassured Hardy with strong conviction in his voice.

What Baxter didn't know was that Hardy had not only been getting an echocardiography of his heart but had also met the anesthesiologist who painstakingly went over all the risks that the sedation carried. It appeared to Hardy that there weren't any real good options. Most of the drugs could trigger an attack, but not being appropriately sedated leading to agitation and pain could do just as much damage. In the end, he had shrugged, asked the doctor what choice did he really have, and swallowed the sedative he'd been handed. So far, it didn't seem to have any effect.

When Emily finally entered, Hardy was so on edge that he jumped at the door opening. Emily raised her eyebrow.

"Did you get the sedative?" she inquired.

Hardy nodded silently.

Baxter huffed. "If that's his sedated state, then I wouldn't want to see him without any drugs on board."

"Oi, thanks a lot," Hardy snapped back. They glared at each other.

"Hm, didn't seem it helped much. We'll get an IV in you and then do it properly. But first let's go over what's going to happen," Emily stated, ignoring the bickering between the two men.

Hardy slumped onto the exam table. There was no escape now. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and sucked in some air. Baxter had stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"All right Alec. We'll start off with giving you sedation and pain medication to make you comfortable. You won't be knocked out completely but we want you to be pretty out. Once you're sedated, we will insert the catheters into the big blood vessels in your groin, most likely the right side, but if needed we might go through the left." Emily was showing Hardy a cartoon. He vaguely remembered that she had done that previously, but nothing had stuck with him. Embarrassment was flushing his cheeks.

Emily shot him a quick glance and when she recognized how uneasy he was, she smiled. "Most people can't commit any of this information to memory. That's why I usually explain things again right before. Are you following so far?"

Hardy nodded, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

"Great," she picked up where she had left off. "The catheters will be advanced to your heart. We'll use them to trigger your arrhythmia as well as monitor and treat it. Once we've got all the information we need, we'll be able to pick the correct device, most likely a dual-chamber pacemaker combined with an ICD as we talked about yesterday. Any questions?" Emily paused again.

Hardy shook his head. He did recall her discussing different devices. It had been very confusing but he trusted her to do what was needed.

"For the pacemaker, we'll make a two-inch incision under your left collar bone on your chest. That's where the little box, the pacing generator, goes. The wires that will connect the box to your heart will be inserted via the large veins that run right under the collar bone. Once everything is in place we'll suture it up and you're done."

She made it sound very simple and easy, but Hardy's stomach was clenched up to a knot. The thought of a wire sticking into his heart was disconcerting and the idea of being dependent on a little piece of technology was something that Hardy had a hard time reconciling.

"How long is it going to take?" Baxter asked. He had been listening intently, taking in all the information with a quiet calm demeanor. Hardy wondered how many times Baxter had been sitting in a room with doctors listening to explanations about his daughter's health.

"Probably several hours for both procedures. And then he'll have to stay in recovery for another four to six hours for the blood vessels to close properly. Are you going to stick around or come back?" Emily wanted to know.

Hardy's head snapped up, training his anxious gaze on Baxter. He didn't want to ask, but he wished very much that Baxter would stay. Baxter looked straight at him.

"Not going anywhere. I'll be here," he reaffirmed Hardy more than answering Emily's question.

"Good." Emily focused on Baxter, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. "It might not be the worst idea," she added hesitantly.

"Agreed." Baxter gave her a small nod.

Hardy looked from one to the other, witnessing their exchange that was more about what wasn't voiced than about what had actually been said. The knot in his stomach loosened up, and he was grateful to have both of them around.

"You can stay with him until he goes to the pre-op area. After he gets picked up, there is a waiting room down the hallway you guys came from." Baxter nodded again, hand still resting on Hardy's shoulder.

"Let me call the nurse, so we can get you settled," Emily said and quickly left the room, leaving the two men by themselves.

"You all right?" Baxter asked, voice soft.

Hardy shrugged. "Have to be, right?"

"It's frightening and it's okay to say that, Alec." Baxter patted Hardy's back. "When Emma had to go for her first round of radiation therapy, I was so scared, but of course I didn't let on. At least I thought so. Kids are so perceptive though. She picked up on it quickly and told me that it's quite all right to be afraid because it's a sign of intelligence if you are scared of things that _are_ really scary. And that you can only be brave, if you're frightened first."

"Smart kid," Hardy mumbled, tugging on the gown again.

"Well, she is my daughter," Baxter bragged unabashedly. That earned him a small smile from Hardy.

"I _am_ scared, Ed," Hardy admitted aloud for the first time since he'd learned how risky the procedure was.

Baxter circled his arm around Hardy's shoulders and tugged him close. "I know."

He held Hardy until they came to wheel him off to the pre-op area.

"Good luck, my friend. I'll see you when you wake up." Baxter said his goodbye and Hardy felt his eyes resting on him while he was taken away.

* * *

Hardy was lying on a stretcher, covered by a thin sheet that was too short and didn't keep out the chilly air. The IV fluids that were running into him made one of his arms feel like a brick of ice. The other arm was burning from the sedation medication that was slowly dripping into him. He stared at the ceiling tiles, counting them for the third time. Noises from the other patients in the large pre-op room filtered through the curtain that separated him from them. They didn't help him to stay calm, and neither did they drown out the beeping of his monitor.

The irregularity of his heartbeat unnerved him. It prevented him from zoning out despite the increased feeling of drowsiness. He briefly dozed off and when his eyes jerked open again, he was utterly disoriented. A face swam into focus and he recognized Emily.

"Alec, we're going to take you to the cath lab now. You go back to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be over," she said.

Hardy tried to say something but his mouth didn't want to cooperate. He let it go and drifted back to sleep.

He woke up, sun shining into his face. He squinted at the bright light and Tess wrapped her arm around him. The grass tickled his cheek and he lazily moved his hand to brush it away.

"Please don't move, Alec," Tess said with a man's voice. Hardy blinked into the harsh light that wasn't the sun at all. Something was still irritating his face. When he tried to wipe at it, someone was holding down his hand.

"He needs to be more under," another voice chimed in.

Something was pressed onto his mouth and nose, choking him. He turned his head away, but they didn't let him. The air had an odd smell to it. The odor was all-encompassing and it pulled him under, deeper and deeper until the grey water surrounded him completely. There was no light no up or down, only water rushing down his throat, flooding his lungs. He gasped for air but to no avail. It burned. His chest was on fire and the pain was unbearable.

And then she was there. Smiling just like she had in the photo. Something was off. He squinted at her and her cheeks were swelling, puffing up, paling and turning into a sick shade of blue until her whole face and body was bloated. She flung herself at him, toppling him over and burying him with her dead weight that was still tugging on his arms. She was pressing all air out of him, sitting on his chest, crushing him. He wanted to scream but couldn't, his breath caught in his lungs until they seemed to burst. His world exploded into pain and he faded away into nothing.

And then she was there. Smiling just for him. Her long hair was framing her beautiful face and her warm loving hazel eyes looked at him. He saw her lips mouth the word "Dad" and he so wanted to tell her how much he loved her but couldn't, too choked up with his overwhelming feelings for her. She took his hand and pulled him out of the dark water into the warm sun, leaving behind the pain in his chest. His breathing became easier and finally he found peace.

* * *

A/N: About the cliff hanger… at least I didn't have a sound of a flat lining heart monitor in the background and then cut to commercial like they did on the actual show (for the US folks – that's what they did during the UK broadcast of S02x06) Although I have to admit, if this would have been a TV series I might have felt very, very tempted to do something like that.

Hazelmist's comment of the day "HFDJSKHFDJSKFJDKSHJFDKHSJK! THE FEEELLLSSS. Good luck with the mob" may reflect some of your feelings. I have hunkered down and I am ready for whoever wants to come at me with pitchforks, cursing or anything the like is welcome. Maybe telling you that the following chapters have all been written and are in the final editing stage might console you?

Oh, and one more thing... I truly enjoyed Emily and Baxter finally meeting. I hope you did too. And in case you want to refresh your memory about the unicorn and Baxter and Alec's friendship you may want to read "A Unicorn In The Snow" (and for a change it has some fluff and only a wee bit of angst in it).


	29. CHAPTER 28

**A/N:** As promised, an update without too much delay… thanks everyone! *hands out more tissues and a cuppa to sooth frayed nerves*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 28**

Baxter was on his fourth trip to the coffee machine. The amount of lukewarm tea that his system had absorbed so far made him antsy. He could have sworn it was the same appliance from the time Emma had been in the hospital. It looked suspiciously ancient. He stared at the brown water that was trickling into a Styrofoam cup that didn't deserve the name 'tea' even if it had been the last on earth. Sighing, he grabbed it and retreated to his seat in the corner.

He had read all the news articles on his phone he felt remotely interested in. There was no development in the car search or anything else for the matter. He checked his watch again. Thirteen minutes had passed since he had peeked last. Hardy had been barely gone for two hours, it was going to be torture. He could sneak out and Hardy would never know, but that would have felt like a betrayal of his friend in need.

He was still annoyed at him for not telling his wife but earlier that day it became clear to him that Hardy should have never been left alone to have that conversation. Someone should have sat them down and done it for him. Not because Hardy was too stubborn, but because he was too soft. Asking him to tell his family something upsetting was an impossible task for him.

The cup was empty again and Baxter got up with a groan. It was going to be a long morning. He approached the coffee machine and realized he was out of change.

"For God's sake," he cursed. When he turned around to storm out and find a place to break down some of his larger bills, he jumped. Dr. Abbott had sneaked up on him and was standing right behind him.

Baxter had been around doctors delivering bad news for too long. One look at her face was enough to know that she wasn't there to share anything good.

"What happened? Why are you here? You can't possibly be done already?" he bombarded her with questions.

"Mr. Baxter, can we sit?"

Needing to sit down was never a good sign. He nodded, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets. They took some seats in the corner of the empty room. Anxiety was making Baxter sweat and he was ready to burst, when she finally spoke.

"Alec is all right…" – a great load was taken off his chest – "… but there have been complications." The load was back.

"Care to explain?" Baxter growled. He didn't want to be unfriendly but his nerves were strung like a violin.

She sighed and leaned forward. "Mr. Baxter, I'm going to be very frank with you and probably violate all laws of patient confidentiality, but you're the only person around him that he has told about his heart condition. I feel very strongly that someone else needs to be in the loop besides him. He's not very good at taking care of himself, if you know what I mean."

Baxter let out a sarcastic laugh. "Tell me about it."

Emily gave him a curious look and a small smile flicked over her face.

"What do you know about his condition?" she asked.

"To be honest with you, not much. I caught him having some sort of attack and noted that he was taking the same medication my wife takes for her high blood pressure. I called him out on it and he admitted to having an irregular heartbeat. My brother's a cardiologist and I talked to him to get a better idea. When I guessed he needed a pacemaker, Alec opened up a bit. He came to me yesterday, asking for the day off and implied that the procedure was going to be risky," Baxter summarized the few facts he was aware of.

Dr. Abbott had looked up when he mentioned that he had a cardiologist in the family. "Oh, of course… Baxter. You're Martin's little brother."

 _Bloody doctors_ , they all knew each other. There was an amused expression on her face and Baxter rolled his eyes. Without a doubt, Martin would have shared stories about his _'baby'_ brother and he idly wondered what on earth Martin was telling people about him.

"Yup, that would be me. Could we please get back to what happened with Hardy before I'm going to have a heart attack?" Baxter asked disgruntled.

"Sorry. Of course. Alec has a condition called Long QT syndrome. It's a severe form of arrhythmia and hereditary; he had it all his life. I don't quite understand why he was relatively free of symptoms for most of his life and only now got so ill from it. Regardless, about a month ago he had a cardiac arrest when his daughter was in the hospital. Maybe the extreme stress triggered the attack. He –"

"Wait a minute," Baxter interrupted her, shocked by what he had just learned. "You said he had a cardiac arrest?" She nodded. "The fucking moron lied to me," Baxter exclaimed angrily. He had called Hardy when Daisy was in the hospital and although the story of having a panic attack sounded a bit odd, he had given him the benefit of the doubt. He made a mental note to yell the fucking shit out of Hardy once he had recovered.

"Why am I not surprised?" Dr. Abbott sighed. They exchanged a glance and Baxter was suddenly incredibly grateful that Hardy had been so fortunate to meet this young doctor who was obviously very invested in her patient.

"He was lucky he was in a hospital when it happened and we could shock him out of the arrhythmia immediately. Otherwise he might not have survived," she began her story and Baxter's eyes widened. He had no idea how serious this disease was. The way Hardy'd been acting one wondered if he didn't either. _Bloody moron._

"We had told him back then that he most likely needed the pacemaker but we wanted to do some further testing. That was the original plan," she continued, squirming in her chair. "Unfortunately, things didn't quite work out that way. His condition rapidly deteriorated over the past weeks to a point where I started seriously worrying for his life." She stopped talking and fixed her brown eyes on Baxter whose heart was falling. He had seen Hardy's decline, especially in the last week or so and he felt guilty that he hadn't intervened earlier.

"I should have put him on medical leave," he muttered under his breath.

"I'm not sure if that would have helped. Besides refusing any intervention right from the start, he was so stubborn about needing to finish the case he's currently working on. He didn't agree to get the cath done until he almost crashed the car with Daisy in it. Even then I still had to threaten him to do it today and not at a later time." She seemed disheartened. Baxter wasn't unfamiliar with her dilemma. Hardy had been extremely distressed over the fact that he might not be able to end what he had started.

"You know that he pulled one of the victims out of the river, right?" Baxter asked quietly.

"I do. And he almost died that day. Swimming in cold water is a textbook trigger for his arrhythmia. I had told him so but it didn't prevent him from going right for it." Her frustration was evident. She found Baxter's eyes again. "He's been having nightmares, every night. He says he hasn't been sleeping ever since. He lost almost twenty pounds since I first met him. This bloody case is killing him," she blurted out.

Baxter was surprised by how emotional she was. Her eyes were moist and she took in some deep breaths to compose herself. A smile curled up the corners of his mouth. He remembered Hardy mentioning that he had a good doctor. He sure did, and more so. She cared about him as a person and not only as a patient and maybe that was one of the reasons Hardy was still alive today.

Baxter put a hand on her arm. "I know it is. I've seen it too," he admitted crestfallen.

She took in another deep breath and sighed deeply. "I should have hospitalized him when he passed out in my office the other day."

"When was that?" Baxter frowned, remembering Hardy's incident in the woods. It made him wonder how many more times in these past weeks Hardy had skirted by catastrophe without telling anyone.

"Monday morning," she admitted. "That's when I threatened him that he needed to have this procedure done or I would send him to another cardiologist."

Baxter's thoughts travelled back to Hardy's slumped figure on that park bench after he had had the falling out with Tess. He had looked so defeated. Knowing now what had happened earlier that day, it made even more sense.

"So, what went wrong?" Baxter finally asked after both of them had remained silent, undoubtedly contemplating how they should have been more firm with Hardy.

"We couldn't do it," she stated, frustration flushing her cheeks.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Baxter was confused.

"We couldn't place the pacemaker because his heart nearly arrested. We started with the cath, but at first the sedation wasn't deep enough. The anesthesiologist wanted to be cautious. When he finally got it right, Alec had a serious attack most likely triggered by the anesthetics. We were able to control the arrhythmia with medication at that time." She ran her hands through her hair, letting out a tired sigh. Baxter listened in horror, fearing what would come next.

"We then decided to forgo all the additional testing and only use the catheters to keep his heart in check during the pacemaker insertion. Everything else seemed too risky. When we tried to get the wires of the pacemaker in place, his heart couldn't take it. Even with the slightest manipulation, he had spells of life-threatening arrhythmia. After the third failed attempt, we called it quits. If we hadn't had direct access to his heart with the catheters he might not have survived," she finished her explanation, staring out the window.

Baxter couldn't quite follow her but the salient points stuck with him. Hardy didn't get the pacemaker and still had almost died. Baxter stood abruptly and took a few long strides back and forth through the family room. It was hard to deal with all the emotions that were bubbling up. Old feelings from the time of Emma's illness were mixing with new ones and they rendered him shaken and rattled. But just like he had back then, he resorted to pragmatism and looking for the next step.

"Where do we go from there then?" he asked resolutely, not accepting defeat.

"To tell you the truth, I think we underestimated how badly his heart was affected by his disease. I could imagine after some recovery we could manage his condition better and get the pacemaker surgery done. We also have a better idea now how he reacts to certain drugs." She seemed optimistic enough for Baxter to latch onto it.

"Fine. Where is he?" He didn't want to leave him alone.

"In the recovery unit. He might be awake enough by now to go talk to him." She shot him a sheepish glance. "I didn't want to do that by myself, thought I could enlist some moral support." She got up as well.

Baxter smiled at her and patted her shoulder. "You can count on me. Let's hope we can talk some sense into the obstinate Scot."

"Nothing wrong with being Scottish," she mumbled, cheeks flushing. "My Dad was Scottish."

Baxter's eyes flicked at her. She looked away and Baxter wondered if he had uncovered the secret why Dr. Abbott was so fond of his friend.

"He's not that old, you know," he teased.

"That's exactly what he said too. With more indignation though," she said, now smiling at him.

Baxter grinned. He was pleased with his observational skills. Maybe he still had it in him to be a proper detective and not only a trouble shooting pencil pusher.

They left the family room united in their quest of making Alec Hardy see the wrong of his ways.

* * *

Hardy was counting the ceiling tiles again. They were still fuzzy and the lingering effect of the anesthesia made it hard to focus. It irritated him that he ended up with a different number every time he finished. Grunting, he gave up. There was a dull throbbing pain in his right groin, which wasn't made better by the heavy sandbag that was lying on the cath site. They had told him it was there to stop the bleeding but secretly he suspected its true purpose was to prevent patients from escaping too quickly. He had thrown up twice already, not reacting well to the pain medication they were giving him. Adding that to his pounding head ache, the stabbing sensation in his chest and the discomfort from an IV site gone bad, his day was shaping up to be spectacular.

He itched to get his fingers on his phone to check if they'd found the car. Baxter had his belongings though. Where was he anyway? Hardy didn't want to admit it, but it would have been nice to see a familiar face when he woke up and not the stern features of Nurse Carol or Cathy or whatever her name was. She reminded him of his school matron and a very primordial fear had crept up on him before he realized why he'd been so intimidated by a nurse he'd never met in his life. It did the trick, he followed instructions for once and didn't try to run. And then there was also the bloody sandbag to contest with.

His eyes fell shut again and he was about to drift off, when he got rudely woken up by Baxter's booming voice.

"Enough sleeping. I have a bone or two to pick with you," Baxter growled at him.

Hardy rolled his eyes and shot a glance at Emily who was standing close to Baxter. He couldn't help but think the two of them were conspiring.

"But first Dr. Abbott needs to talk to you," Baxter stated and stepped aside.

Emily's face was flushed and Hardy knew immediately that the news couldn't be good. His eyes caught a glimpse at the clock on the opposite wall. He hadn't paid much attention to the time but now it dawned on him that it had only been a bit over two hours since they had started. That didn't make any sense. His hand came up to the dressing under his collarbone. There definitely wasn't any bump there.

Her eyes were resting on his hand feeling his chest. "Emily?" he prompted her, unable to hide his anguish.

"We couldn't insert the pacemaker, Alec. I'm sorry."

Hardy closed his eyes and kept them shut when he asked, voice quivering, "Why?"

"Your heart wasn't cooperating. We tried three times but every time we had to stop because of the arrhythmia," she explained, defeat resonating in her words.

He felt Baxter's gentle touch on his leg, giving him support.

"So you're telling me that this was all for nothing?" He tried not to be angry but it was hard.

"Alec, you're too ill right now. You have to take a break and recover first, then we can try again," she reasoned. His eyes snapped open.

"A break? You're joking, right? I'm already missing an important part of the investigation and for what? So that you guys couldn't do what you said you would," he barked at her.

"Alec, it's not her fault. You've not been taking care of this and now –" Baxter inserted himself into the conversation.

Emily and Hardy both glared at him. And then they yelled at him at the same time.

"Mr. Baxter, I can fend for myself," Emily growled.

"Ed, with all respect, I don't need to be scolded," Hardy snapped.

Baxter looked back and forth between them. Then shrugging, he mumbled something to himself about Scottish people, very much sounding like an insult. He crossed his arms and observed the spectacle.

"You're such a nag about the taking it easy part," Hardy grumbled. Then he waved his hand at Baxter. "What did you tell him anyway?"

"I told him that I think the bloody case is killing you," Emily said sharply.

"Bloody hell, is there no privacy here?" Hardy shouted. His temper was rising. Emily raised an eyebrow and seemed not impressed with Hardy's outburst.

She crossed her arms over her chest and calmly stated, "If you stay on the force, you'll run a real risk of dying, Alec. And before you complain, yes, I did break patient confidentiality because you're –"

"Please, stop it, Emily." Hardy had enough. As much as Baxter was his friend, he was also his boss. And he still didn't know the extent of Hardy's illness. He had no interest in discussing the more morbid details in front of him.

"Ed, would you mind leaving us alone for a moment. I'd like to discuss a few things in private." Hardy hoped he wouldn't offend Baxter.

Baxter gave him a quizzical look but retreated without protest. Emily stayed behind and he finally had an opportunity to talk without any reservations.

"Emily you can't tell him these things. He will never let me work again and where does that leave me?" Hardy sighed, scrubbing his face down.

Emily looked at him for a long time, not moving a muscle. Then she perched on the edge of his bed, brown eyes burning with sadness.

"Alec, I wasn't joking when I said you'll die if you keep working. One of the main reasons why we were unsuccessful today was that your heart was too weak to withstand _any_ stress whatsoever," she said, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it. "Another thing became very clear also. If you don't get that pacemaker and ICD, it's just a question of time until you'll have an attack that will be fatal. And I don't think you have much time left, not with the shape you're in now."

Hardy pressed his lips together and didn't utter a word. What was there to say? She was patiently waiting for him to make any comment or share his thoughts. When he stayed mute she continued.

"I got the genetic tests back. It confirmed what we already knew. You've got one of the Long QT variants that is very serious. Frankly, it's a miracle you're still alive at your age without any intervention."

Hardy groaned and tried to shift his weight on the bed. The bloody sandbag prevented him from doing so and he half-heartedly kicked his leg. It was a mistake that he immediately paid for with a stabbing pain, radiating down his thigh and calf. He gasped and his heart stuttered, making all the alarms on his monitor go off. Emily stretched out her arm to the reset button, tapped it and adjusted something on a drip that was running into his IV. Then she plopped down onto the bed again.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. Anything can set you off right now. Your heart is very vulnerable." She was dead serious. A lump was forming in his throat and he swallowed hard.

"When can you try again?" he asked with a breaking voice. He wasn't quite ready to give up yet.

Her eyes widened and she looked away.

"Emily?" There was more anxiety in this one word than either one of them could bear.

"We'd have to wait at least a week or two, maybe three. Your heart needs to heal and get some of its strength back," she explained but seemed less than sure of herself. It was unsettling as Hardy had come to know her as a confident physician.

"Two to three weeks?" he echoed flatly.

"In the hospital," she added.

"What?" Hardy shouted, completely caught off guard.

"You need to be taken out of that environment, Alec. No stress, no exertion. Also, you're at such a high risk of having another serious episode that you should be monitored and close to somewhere where you could get immediate help," she elaborated hesitantly.

It all sounded very reasonable but nevertheless absolutely horrifying. "I can't do that Emily. It's going to drive me insane," he blurted out, panic shifting his pitch up. "Can't I stay home, with my family?" he pleaded.

"I don't know Alec. It would be a big task for your wife and daughter. And it wouldn't address the issue of being close to help." She sounded doubtful. "Besides, I don't trust you to keep strict bed rest and not go snooping around your office."

It sunk in more and more that she was very serious about keeping him in the hospital. What also sunk in was what that implied about his state of health. Another question came to his mind.

"Emily, what are my _real_ chances of surviving this? The wait and then the surgery?" he asked, voice rough.

Her hesitation was more than telling. "I'm not sure to be honest with you. We believe that with adequate rest your heart should recover enough for you to have a decent chance to make it through the surgery."

"Decent chance? How do you define that?" he sought clarification. In a way he didn't want to know, but he had to.

She moved on the bed and started clicking her pen. Hardy almost felt bad for how uncomfortable she looked. "Maybe twenty to thirty percent chance of survival," she said not much louder than a whisper.

He stared at her with wide eyes until they were burning. Pressing the heels of his hands on them didn't make it better. He wished he could rub away the reality that he didn't want to face. After listening to the irregular beeping of his treacherous heartbeat for a few moments, he sucked in a breath, then let it out, muttering, "Sounds like I'm the long shot with the bookies."

Emily smiled sadly at him. "I'd still bet on you."

The corner of his mouth pulled up and he expelled some air through his nose. "Thanks. I hope you'll win." He paused, mulling something over. He chewed on his lower lip and ran his fingers through his hair. "What if I don't do it? What are my chances then?"

"Alec!" she exclaimed. "You'll die if you don't." She glared at him incredulously.

"Oi, did you have to be so blunt," he whined, training his eyes back at the ceiling tiles. His frazzled mind resorted to counting again, yet resulting in another number. He hit the mattress and Emily jumped.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. She looked so broken up that Hardy's anger evaporated as quickly as it had come on.

"It's going to be all right. I'm too stubborn to just go away." His attempt at consoling her was feeble but she still smiled.

"I'll get you set up with a spot in our telemetry unit," she said, rising from his bed.

"I'm not staying, Emily," he told her quietly.

"What? Alec, please be –"

"No," he interjected firmly. "I want to go home and finally talk to my wife and daughter. Let them be part of the plan. I can't make that decision by myself. I need them by my side."

He really did. After he had said goodbye earlier this day, the guilt had been wearing him down and he had no bigger desire than putting things right with his family.

"Seriously?" Emily asked.

"Seriously." He was as sincere as he could be.

She searched his face and whatever she saw in there seemed to convince her. "Fine. But you'll have to stay for the proper time to recover after the cath procedure. And I want you to call me tomorrow to discuss where we're going from here."

He nodded. There was one other issue. "I don't want Ed to know. Not yet. Please?"

She tilted her head. "Oh, Alec. He cares about you, you shouldn't shut him out," she sighed.

"It's not that. His daughter nearly died of leukemia a few years ago and being back in this place isn't that easy for him. I don't want to burden him," Hardy admitted his concern about his friend.

Emily smiled at him, squeezed his shoulder and said, "I guess you care about him too, then."

Hardy shot her a sheepish glance and squirmed in the bed. The pain in his groin made him cringe and took his breath away.

"I'll talk to the nurse to get you some more pain medication," Emily offered.

"No. No more drugs. Don't wanna throw up again, I'll stick it out," Hardy insisted. After a few heartbeats he added shyly, "But maybe you could ask Ed to come back?"

"Of course," Emily said gently and left him after another shoulder squeeze.

Hardy closed his eyes. He replayed the conversation and ended with the same desperate feeling that no matter how he decided, nothing was a great option. There was one thing though that was clear as the morning sky. It was time to stop hiding. Finally.

* * *

A/N: The day is not over yet… I'm planning on posting the next chapter within the next 24 hours (so if you're in the US you can read it in your food induced coma or when you need to sneak in a break from your family or while you wait for yet another connecting flight in an overcrowded airport). It's my way of saying thanks to all my readers who have followed this story for the past months.


	30. CHAPTER 29

**A/N:** As promised, the next 's day is almost over… *eyes shrinking supply of tissues; then runs to store to get more as well as more tea and something to spike the tea with if needed*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 29**

The afternoon was passing by slowly. They had to wait six hours before Dr. Abbott was willing to discharge Hardy. There had been a brief battle of wills over leaving against medical advice that Hardy's doctor won. Baxter gained the impression that this wasn't the first time they had had this discussion. How she put up with Hardy's willfulness baffled Baxter. But then here he was, sitting at Hardy's bedside, in the same boat with Dr. Abbott.

Baxter was watching his sleeping friend. Hardy's pale face twitched now and then and he was restless. He couldn't move much due to the heavy sandbag on his groin. Hardy had been quick to point out that the bloody thing was only there to hold him back from getting up and leaving, to which Baxter replied that he thought it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. He was subsequently murdered by Hardy's piercing glare.

That had been the extent of their conversation after Dr. Abbott called him back. That and Hardy's plea to take him home as soon as they would let him go. His friend was taciturn on his talkative days, but now he was more tight-lipped than ever. Baxter wondered what had been said between Hardy and his doctor but he didn't pry. Judging from Dr. Abbott's face, it had not been a happy talk. She looked drawn and her eyes were suspiciously puffy.

Baxter's feeble attempts at not being too worried were thwarted by the crawl of Hardy's erratic heart rhythm on the monitor. He shouldn't be staring at it but it was hard not to. He remembered how it had always reassured him to focus on Emma's steady heartbeat even when she wasn't conscious or seemed so far gone. Hardy's ticker, however, did everything to be as disconcerting as it could be.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. When it went off again, he sighed and pulled it out. They had found the car. A SOCO team had been dispatched and they were waiting for it to arrive. Baxter's eyes wandered from the screen to Hardy's face. Hardy was watching him through half-open eyes.

"And?" he groaned.

Baxter smiled at his DI. "We've got the car. SOCO will be taking it apart shortly. Good work, Alec."

Hardy's eyes fell shut and the only indication that the information had registered with him was the small smile that played around his lips. Baxter shot a quick prayer to anyone who was willing to listen asking for something to come of the car search.

"Alec, I'll be right back. Gotta call CPS and see if we're able to get an extension until the end of the day," he let Hardy know quietly. There was no response, Hardy was out cold. Maybe he was finally able to shed the tension and give his body the rest it needed so much. Baxter sure hoped so.

CPS was surprisingly reasonable and granted them another twenty-four hours to put forth charges against Ashworth. When Baxter came back, Hardy was awake.

"Where've you been? Every time I wake up you're not there. Why did I even bring you?" Hardy greeted him grouchily. He looked at him with wide eyes, desperately trying to hide the fear behind his gruff behavior. It tugged on Baxter's heart, seeing him like that.

"We've got another twenty-four hours from CPS," Baxter explained.

"Why?" Hardy seemed confused.

"Alec, did you hear anything I told you before I stepped out?" Baxter asked gently.

Hardy shook his head. "No," came his monosyllabic answer. His befuddled expression was only making Baxter feel more worried about his friend.

"They found the car. SOCO is on the way. I left to talk to CPS to get an extension because our time to charge Ashworth was running out," he repeated his words from earlier.

Hardy's face lit up and there was a rosy hue on his gaunt cheeks. He tried to pull himself up. A frustrated groan escaped his throat, when he lost the battle with all the cables, IV lines and last but not least the sandbag.

"Ach, for fuck's sake," he pressed through his gritted teeth and fell back on the bed. Baxter followed his gaze to the clock across the room. Two and a half more hours until they could leave. Baxter sighed. It might as well have been an eternity.

* * *

Hardy had finally established the correct number of ceiling tiles. Forty-three. Unfortunately, that knowledge didn't do squat to alleviate his growing impatience.

"Did your phone go off?" Hardy demanded to know.

"No, Alec, it didn't," Baxter sighed. "Just like the two dozen times that you have asked before." He sounded tired, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

"Are you sure? Maybe you have poor reception in here. Did you check my phone as well? They should have found something by now, right?" Hardy wittered on, oblivious of Baxter's growing exasperation.

Baxter finally snapped. His face turned red and he hissed at Hardy, "Bloody hell, Alec. If you ask me one more time, I swear I'll leave and you can walk home."

They locked gaze until Hardy looked away, rolling his eyes and snorting.

"God, stop acting like a child. Next thing you're going to ask is _'Are we there yet'_ ," Baxter grumbled.

"I think you might be," Emily chimed in happily. Neither one of them had noted her stepping up to the bed. "If _'there'_ means that it's time to go home," she added, smiling at their bewildered faces.

"How you're feeling, Alec? Still can't convince you to stay?" she asked hopefully.

"'M fine. And no. Please, Emily, don't make this harder than it needs to be," Hardy pleaded. He couldn't wait to get home.

She gave him detailed instructions – strict bed rest, no unnecessary walking around, no getting up without help until the wound healed a bit more, no forgetting to take his medications, no skipping meals, and to drink plenty of fluids.

"All right then. I'll send the nurse to get you disconnected from everything. You'll call me tomorrow?" There was an unspoken question underlying her words.

"I will," Hardy promised. He had every intention to do so. With the support of his family he'd be able to get through this and he had finally reached the point where hiding seemed harder than telling. Besides there wasn't really an option of concealing his condition any longer. He wanted to believe he'd dread the fussing that would most certainly ensue, but deep inside he welcomed the idea of being taken care of. He was so weary and worn down and his body was beaten. The thought of not having to fight alone was a greater relief than he would ever admit.

"Mr. Baxter, can I rely on you making sure he's not going to do anything stupid tonight?" Emily addressed his friend.

"Absolutely. The only place he's going is his bed. Do you think I could borrow that sandbag though?" Baxter asked, a twinkle in his grey eyes.

Hardy moaned. They ignored him.

"Did he say he thinks it's there to prevent him from escaping?" Emily sighed.

"Yup." Baxter grinned and Hardy felt the strong urge to throttle him.

"Well, he was right," Emily said with a straight face. Hardy squinted at her trying to find any trace of humor in her expression. There wasn't any.

"You can't be serious," Hardy muttered in disbelief. "And stop talking as if I'm not in the room," he added grumpily.

Baxter and Emily exchanged a glance. Then Baxter reached for the sandbag.

"Oh, for God's sake, will you guys give it a rest. I'm not going to jump out of my bed at home and run down the next best villain," Hardy cried out in frustration.

Emily's face twitched.

"Ah, I knew it." Hardy pointed his index finger at her. His eyes flicked back and forth between the two who were now giggling like teenaged girls. _Unbelievable_.

"Well, I'm glad you lot find this amusing, because I don't," he groused, crossing his arms over his chest. It wasn't even thirty seconds later, that the corners of his mouth pulled up.

"Is he _smiling_?" Emily asked Baxter, emphasizing the disbelief in her voice.

"I think he might be. Must be the pain meds you have him on. Looks like good stuff, can I have some?" Baxter joked. Hardy's pillow hit him full in the face.

"And I think someone's needs to go home," Emily commented, clearly having a hard time not laughing out loud. She turned to get the nurse and the remaining paperwork.

When she came back, she had turned serious again. Hardy was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed and more than ready to leave. His groin was throbbing and he felt dizzy but he didn't let on. His urge to see Tess and Daisy superseded everything else.

"Get home safe, Alec. Rest and talk to your family. Call me anytime if you have concerns. Please." A plea was hiding behind her words.

"I will. And I'll give you an answer tomorrow," he reassured her again.

She nodded in silence. The worry was etched onto her face and for once it was Hardy who gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll be fine, Emily," he added with a smile.

"You better go now," she mumbled, casting down her glittering eyes.

Feeling guilty for causing her heartache, he didn't protest when the nurse made him use a wheelchair instead of limping down the hallway. They said their final goodbyes and a few minutes later, Hardy was tucked into Baxter's car, going home to his family.

* * *

The ride was silent again. Hardy rested his head against the window, eyes half open. The cars and houses passed by, blurring into each other across his faint reflection in the glass.

"Alec?" Baxter asked quietly, presumably not wanting to disturb him in case he was asleep.

"Hm?" came Hardy's drowsy response.

"What did you and your doctor talk about after you sent me away?" Baxter wanted to know. Hardy kept his eyes closed. He had dreaded the question.

"We went over what's going to happen next," he answered, avoiding any details.

Baxter was quiet for a moment, then he continued, "If you need more time off, it's not a problem."

"Hm," Hardy grunted.

"You really don't want to talk about it, do you?" Baxter sighed.

"Not now, Ed." Hardy felt bad for shutting his friend out but he couldn't bring himself to tell him that his chances were possibly worse than when Emma had been sick.

"Do you want me to stay with you until Tess comes home?" Baxter offered.

Hardy contemplated his answer. It might be nice to have company but then he suspected he was going to sleep anyway. The exhaustion that he had pushed away for the last weeks seemed to mercilessly catch up with him and he barely could keep his eyes open long enough to even have a short conversation. Baxter had watched him dozing off the whole day long. He shot a brief glance at his friend who looked almost as tired as he did. It was time to let him find some rest as well.

"Nah, I think I'll be all right. You've done enough for a day," Hardy said, stifling a yawn.

"I didn't do anything, Alec," Baxter replied.

Hardy sat up and took a proper look at his friend. "Not true. Couldn't have done it without you," he mumbled.

"Yah, 'cause you needed a chauffeur," Baxter retorted sarcastically.

"Ed, please. Don't make this harder for me than it already is. You know I'm no good at this," Hardy sighed, moving in the seat. He winced when his leg twisted.

Baxter shot him a sideways glance. "You're sure you don't want any of those pain pills?"

"Do you want me to puke in your car?" Hardy threw back at him.

Baxter shrugged. "Point taken."

They fell silent again and Hardy dozed off quickly. He woke to the ring of his phone. When he saw Tess' name pop up he was awake immediately. As soon as he picked up, she started talking.

"Alec? Where have you been all day?" she shouted into the phone.

"Doctor's appointment, remember?" Hardy replied demurely.

"Jesus, that must have been a hell of a wait if you're still not done yet," she said dismissively.

"I guess so," Hardy sighed into the phone. If you could call recovering from a cardiac cath waiting. "I'm on my way home. Any news about the car search?" he added anxiously.

"The car was squeaky clean…" – Hardy's heart fell – "… but it wasn't in vain." Her voice was ringing with excitement. Hardy tensed up, waiting for her to reveal what she was holding back.

"So?" he prompted her when she didn't continue.

"While you were sitting around at the doctor's office, we… _I_ found Pippa's pendant!" she boasted.

"What?" Hardy exclaimed and sat up straight. He suppressed a moan when a stabbing sensation shot down his leg. "You found Pippa's pendant in Ashworth's old car? The pendant that she was wearing on the day she died?" In his excitement, his Scottish accent grew thick. Out of the corner of his eye, Hardy caught Baxter shooting him a surprised glance.

"Yup," she confirmed enthusiastically.

They got him. That was the evidence they needed to link Ashworth to Pippa Gillespie. The relief he felt made him dizzy.

"Oi, you're brilliant! How did you find it?" Hardy was proud of his wife.

"SOCO couldn't find anything, but I didn't want to leave the car behind until I looked myself. Remember when Daisy lost your mother's bracelet that one time?"

"Aye." Daisy had been heart broken when they couldn't find the only memory they had from Hardy's mother. After a frantic search of the whole house, Hardy remembered to look in the car. It turned out the bracelet had fallen under the front seat and got entangled in the wiring under the cushion. Daisy had declared her father a hero and stored the bracelet safely away in her treasure chest.

"I looked in the same place and there it was. The damn pendant. And guess what? It's got his prints on it. At least that's the preliminary forensics report," Tess explained excitedly.

"Out-bloody-standing. I could kiss you, love." There was a broad smile on his face. He stole a glimpse at Baxter who was grinning. His ears were burning with the embarrassment over doting on his wife.

He cleared his throat and continued with more seriousness in his voice, "Who has the pendant now?"

"I do," she was quick to reply.

"All right. Take it back to the station right away and make sure it gets handled properly. This is all we needed to get him charged. I'll let Baxter know and he can deal with CPS," Hardy ordered, an unspoken question on his face. Baxter nodded affirmatively, still smiling.

"Okay. Will do. Gotta go now, Alec. Bye." She had hung up the phone without giving him a chance to say goodbye.

Hardy let out a breath that he had been holding for weeks, his head falling back onto the seat. It was done.

* * *

Baxter pulled up in Hardy's driveway. Hardy was snoring, head lolled back and drooling. Baxter grinned and considered snapping a picture with his mobile. He really shouldn't. A minute later, he put his phone away, feeling like a kid on Christmas. This was going to be prime extortion material. He sniggered to himself, feeling giddy after a long day of tension and heartache.

Hardy stirred in his seat. He stretched and yelped in pain. His eyes jerked open and he blinked into the setting sun.

"You're home, Alec," Baxter said while opening the car door for Hardy who glared at him when he pulled him up onto his feet.

"I'm not an invalid, Ed. I can walk by myself," Hardy growled. Baxter tilted his head, shrugged and crossed his arms.

"All right. Let's see it then," he challenged Hardy who was leaning lopsidedly on the car. Hardy hobbled up the driveway, valiantly pretending he wasn't in pain. Baxter trailed behind him, whistling inconspicuously. When Hardy faltered, Baxter was there to catch him.

"Don't say a word," Hardy hissed, putting substantial weight on Baxter's arm.

"I'm not," Baxter stated drily. He bit down on his lip, trying not to grin.

They made it inside and stopped in front of the stairs up to the bedroom. The both stared at them for a bit until Hardy took in a deep breath and expelled the air quickly.

"Right," he said, scratching his stubbly chin.

"You guys got a guestroom?" Baxter questioned doubtfully.

"Nope," Hardy sighed.

"Sofa?" It wasn't ideal but better than climbing all the stairs.

"Yup," came Hardy's resigned response.

Baxter maneuvered Hardy into the living room and onto the sofa. The short walk from the car inside the house had taken a toll on Hardy. His face was ashen and he was panting, rubbing his chest.

"You okay?" Baxter frowned at his breathless friend. To his surprise, Hardy shook his head. His hands were trembling as he tried to pull something out of his pockets. Baxter was quick to help him with his pills. They waited in silence until Hardy's color improved and his heaving chest eased up.

"I was thinking –" Hardy started, running his fingers through his hair.

"Did it hurt?" Baxter interjected.

"Seriously, Ed? How old are you? Five?" Hardy snapped at him. Baxter kept a straight face. It was so easy to rile him up.

"So, I was thinking…" – a daggered stare shut Baxter up before he could get started – "… maybe I could come in tomorrow and talk to Ashworth again," Hardy said slowly.

"What? Are you out of your fucking mind? No way are you coming to work any time soon." Baxter's good mood was gone. Hardy was such a stubborn idiot.

"There's something that's bugging me," Hardy continued pensively.

"Like your heart disease?" Baxter retorted sarcastically. It was hard to keep his calm after all that happened that day.

"Ach, shut up, Ed, and let me talk," Hardy huffed. Baxter raised his eyebrows.

"You do remember that I'm your boss, right?" he asked with indignation. He hated the fact that he wanted to know what it was that kept Hardy preoccupied.

Hardy ignored him, thinking out loud. "Ashworth has been very adamant about not having anything to do with Lisa's disappearance and presumed death. Nothing that we've found could link him to her. What if he really didn't kill her? What if he knows though what actually happened to her? Now that we've got proof that Pippa was in his car on the day she died, maybe we could use that as leverage to get him to talk?"

Baxter searched Hardy's face that had taken on a healthy rosy sheen. It wasn't easy for Baxter to say what he had to, but in the interest of protecting his friend from himself, he didn't have a choice.

"Alec, I can see this is important to you and I even think you might be onto something, but I can't let you come back to work. Not like this. I'm sorry."

"Ed, please. Just for one day. Don't discard it so easily, give me a chance," Hardy pleaded with him.

 _Damn those puppy eyes_ , Baxter cursed inwardly. His resolve was wavering.

"I don't know, Alec." Skepticism was written all over his face.

"All I ask for is that you think about it," Hardy begged.

"Ach, fine. I'll think about it." Baxter felt tired. It was bad enough that he had never been able to say no to his daughter, now he had to contest with a forty-something year old Scot. Maybe it was time to retire.

Hardy had sunken back onto the sofa, eyes fluttering shut. It seemed as if all energy was leaving him and the exhaustion was taking a firm hold over him. He shivered, then tried to curl up. He whimpered and rubbed his right groin.

"Get some rest, Alec," Baxter ordered gently, tucking a blanket tightly around him. Hardy's muffled response sounded like _'thanks for everything'_ and Baxter was willing to take it. He left Hardy's phone and his medication on the coffee table, together with a glass of water, a banana, and a sandwich, all within easy reach. He leaned against the door frame and watched his friend sleep once again. A smile curled up his lips, welcoming the intense feeling of relief that Hardy would finally be able to find peace.

* * *

Hardy was ripped out of a dreamless sleep in the dark. His phone was ringing relentlessly in the quiet house. He rolled over to reach it, a groan escaping his throat. The throbbing in his groin was almost unbearable and he wished he'd taken some of that pain medication that Emily had given him.

He pulled the mobile to his ear and rasped into the speaker, "Hardy."

"Alec?" Tess' trembling voice crackled through the phone.

"Love, what's wrong?" Hardy was immediately alarmed. The distress that had resonated in his name pained him.

"Alec, I need to talk to you," she cried. His heart was thudding in his chest. What could be so upsetting to her that she called him in tears?

"Where are you, Tess?" he asked, making an effort to sound calm.

"I'm in your office. Can you come here?" she implored him.

Hardy closed his eyes. How was he going to do that? He'd probably pass out halfway down the hallway.

"Tess, I really shouldn't –"

"Please, Alec." She sounded so desperate it was shattering his already broken heart. With a lot of effort, he sat, vertigo tilting the room around him. Almost two decades of love and devotion won.

"All right, love. It's going to take me a bit, but I'll get there," he promised, drawing on his last bit of strength. They hung up and he started the painful process of getting ready to leave the comfort of his home. He took his medication, slid the pill packet into his pocket and slowly limped out into the dark.

* * *

Hardy clambered out of the taxi. He still didn't understand why Tess couldn't have met him at home to talk to him. His whole body ached and his groin was throbbing despite the pain medication he had taken. He should have been more insistent with Tess that he couldn't come as he clearly wasn't supposed to be walking around. Baxter and Emily would murder him if they knew. But she had sounded so upset and had been pleading with him, that he didn't have it in him to tell her about his day. Not over the phone.

It was late, and besides the desk officer the station was deserted. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath while waiting for the elevator. The vertigo was not too bad and he could manage. He pushed away any thoughts of the complications during the procedure and their implications. The elevator came and he made it upstairs to CID where Tess was waiting for him in his office.

As soon as he saw her, his heart fell. Her face was pale and her eyes were puffy and red. She must have been crying for a while. Besides when Daisy was so ill a few weeks ago, he couldn't remember any other time that Tess had displayed this much emotion publicly. She was sitting on the sofa, rubbing her hands together.

He had to steady himself on the doorframe before he could walk in. The pain was getting worse again and he felt extremely lightheaded. His heart was tugging along, beating way too slowly. He took a deep breath and made it to his chair behind the desk.

"What's going on, Tess? Why'd you want me to come here?" Hardy asked, his voice gravelly with exhaustion and worry.

Tears were dripping from her long lashes, leaving long smudges of mascara on her cheeks. She looked more miserable than Hardy had ever seen her. But it wasn't due to sorrow. Knowing her for almost two decades now, he was sure there was fury at the root of it. His stomach knotted up, distress rising by the minute. He pushed himself up and limped over to the sofa. He didn't care about the pain, the lightheadedness or the tightness in his chest. All he wanted was to comfort his wife who seemed so uncharacteristically distraught. His thoughts were racing, frantically trying to make sense of the situation. Clumsily, he lowered himself down next to her and put his arm around her. She jerked away and shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me, Alec!" she snarled at him.

His hands dropped, bewilderment written all over his face. Panic about what she was going to tell him was threatening to overcome his frayed nerves, jolting his heartbeat from too slow to too fast.

With a shaky voice, he asked again, "Please, love, tell me what's going on."

"My car was broken into. They took the fucking pendant," she blurted out.

Hardy's world started spinning, around him and inside alike. Her car? How would they break into the car while she was in there driving back to the station? It didn't make sense. After a few thudding heartbeats, worry rose within him.

"Did you get held up? Are you hurt?" The sudden concern for her was making him nauseated.

Her reaction confused him even more. She smirked and shook her head.

"Alec, did you hear what I said? The pendant was stolen out of my car."

Hardy was starting to feel short of breath. It registered somewhere in him that she just revealed that their key evidence was lost, but everything was overshadowed by his intense fear for her well-being.

"Tess, you didn't answer. Did they hurt you when they held up the car?" Hardy's panic was audible in his voice.

She let out a short sarcastic laugh. "Aren't you cute? You actually think somebody tried to carjack me? I can't believe how daft you're being."

Hardy was taken aback by her derision. He was panting by now, barely able to focus on what she was saying.

" _Alec,_ _I was not in the car_." She was all but shouting the words at him, emphasizing every single one of them as if he was hard of hearing.

If she wasn't in the car where was she then? Utterly confused and more and more out of breath, he could barely get out the next words.

"I don't understand."

She scoffed, "No, you clearly don't. Oblivious as ever." She was so snide. She turned, facing him for the first time since he had walked through the door.

"I wasn't in the car because it was parked in the hotel garage. I didn't go back to the station immediately," she explained drily.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and sight. Maybe it was his quickly deteriorating state, fogging up his ability to comprehend, but nothing that she was telling him made any sense.

"Why wouldn't you go back?" His confusion was obvious.

His ears were ringing with her laughter. And although her face was blurry from his failing vision, he could see the smugness and contempt plastered on her features. She looked him straight in the eye.

"Alec, I stopped at the hotel because I was having sex with Dave Thompson as a celebration. We've been having an affair for months now."

The words cut through his foggy mind like a hot knife through butter. Confusion turned into immediate clarity.

 _An affair. With Dave Thompson._

His heart broke. The physical pain in his chest wasn't even the worst. The aching caused by the utter betrayal and destruction of everything that he cared about was more than he could bear. Closing his eyes that were stinging with hot tears, he slumped over, elbows resting on his thighs. His head fell between his shoulders and he buried his face in his palms. He took in a shuddering breath and managed to ask one question.

"Why?" His voice was breaking with the short word.

"Because you haven't been with me in so long. Because you don't see me any more. Because you don't care for me any more." Her voice was cold, all warmth gone.

"I love you Tess," he whispered. It was all he could say. There was nothing else.

"But I don't love _you_ any more," she replied calmly as if she was answering an everyday question.

Hardy was crying in silence, sucking in breaths between quiet sobs. Her words were bouncing around in his mind, a mind that he felt he was losing. And with every skipped heartbeat, the realization of what she had admitted to burned itself deeper and deeper into his soul, eating away at whatever was left of his ailing heart.

There was a light touch on his shoulder. "Alec?" He could almost imagine that he heard concern in her voice.

He weakly swatted at her hand and between clenched teeth spat out, "Leave!"

She stood up abruptly. There was a quiver in her voice, when she spoke. "I know this is not the most opportune moment to ask, but what do you want me to do about the pendant? I've reported it as missing to you as my senior officer. Are you going to tell Baxter or do you want me to do it?"

He barely heard what she said. He couldn't think clearly. His heart was going ballistic and maybe that was a good thing. If he passed out now, the pain would at least be over. His face was still buried in his hands and he was trying to not let on how poorly he was doing. He didn't want her to see what her betrayal had done to him, he didn't want her contemptuous pity. He put every bit of strength that he had left into pulling himself together.

His voice was hollow. "I'll deal with it." And after a few stuttering heartbeats, he added, "'M staying. Not going back."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. I guess we'll figure out arrangements tomorrow."

His head snapped up. "Don't tell Daisy. Not without me there, please?" He was begging her, eyes wide and full of tears. He couldn't bear the thought of his daughter finding out about her mother without him being there for support.

She hesitated for what seemed an eternity. Then she nodded. "Fine. We will talk to her together."

"Thank you." He didn't know why he said it, as if it was him who was in the wrong.

She left him behind without another word. He was alone, so completely alone that it hurt. His world had shattered and he didn't even quite understand why. Hot anger made him feel stronger than he had all evening and he clambered to his feet, needing to escape the room that still smelled like her.

He stumbled out of his office with no clear aim, besides the urge to leave everything behind. He made it halfway through CID when a sharp pain in his chest reminded him of his broken heart. The empty feeling behind his sternum was growing and he could barely feel his fingers. He fumbled through his pockets for his pills and then stopped. No more heartache, he had had enough. In his haze he realized he was in front of Baxter's office. Feeling the need to hide, he barged through the door and slid down the wall, curling up in pain, gasping for air until the welcome blackness of oblivion swallowed him.

* * *

 **A/N:** On this day of giving thanks, I would like to thank all readers who have followed Alec's journey for the past months. Without your interest, support and enthusiasm this story wouldn't be what it is. My special, special THANK YOU goes to HAZELMIST who helped editing these 3 chapters within only a few days. She's out-bloody-standing!

And yes, I know it's maybe not nice to say thank you with the ending of this chapter, but like so often I end with Alec's day coming to a close. I wrote the last scene between Tess and Alec in the office many, many months ago and it is hard to believe that Alec (and I) made it there. I had lovingly referred to this day as "P-Day" (P for pendant, yea I know it's kinda dorky) for so long that when I typed the final words on chapter 26, it seemed a bit surreal that the time had come to write it all out. I have to admit, it makes me very, very emotional to have reached this point in the story. I feel very much like I'm saying goodbye to a good friend, because Alec will never be the same after this. What follows is a dark time in his life so you might want to prepare yourself for that. I hope you'll stick around for the aftermath as well.

So thank you again and I promise the next chapter is not too far away.


	31. CHAPTER 30

**A/N:** I hope everyone's still breathing... thanks for all the comments (and I'm glad people didn't come to lynch me; they might now though). Baxter's having a bit of a frantic morning... *hands out more tissues and cups of teas (spiked if desired)*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 30  
**

It was another early morning for Baxter. He pulled into the parking garage, leaving the grey light behind. He was tired, having spent half the night racking his brain what to do with Hardy and his unreasonable request of coming back to work to interrogate Ashworth. His mind was still grappling with all the information that Dr. Abbott had shared with him. He couldn't help himself, but he was angry at the man for keeping his life-threatening heart condition a secret. It was infuriating to think that Hardy had not only endangered himself, but also the entire investigation. As far as Baxter could tell, nothing had been missed, but who knew. Once again, he was struck by Hardy's unbelievably obstinate behavior.

He had witnessed Hardy acting very defiantly with his doctor who seemed as frustrated with him as Baxter was. Dr. Abbott had not held back her opinion that staying on the force would eventually kill him, especially while working the current case. She had told Hardy right in front of Baxter and he had chided her for disrespecting his privacy. If it hadn't been such a serious subject matter, it would have been comical to witness their face off. Hardy had kicked him out of the room and Baxter knew the news couldn't have been good, judging from his friend's tight-lipped attitude after their conversation.

Hardy had no idea that Dr. Abbott had made a point of pulling Baxter aside to talk. She had very bluntly admitted to breaking every law of patient confidentiality when she spilled all her concerns. The extent of what Hardy had been hiding was disturbing. Not only was his life in jeopardy but the nightmares and general decline his friend had gone through were troubling Baxter deeply. It was a miracle that Hardy was still walking around and had actually managed to apprehend the perpetrator.

Baxter climbed stiffly out of his car. The parking garage was deserted in the wee hours of the morning. It wasn't quite his style to show up this early but he needed to review SOCO's reports before he finalized his dealings with CPS. He had notified the prosecutor of the newly found evidence who then enthusiastically proceeded with charging Ashworth for the murder of Pippa Gillespie. With his DI out, Baxter had no choice but to do some of the leg work himself. It wasn't an unwelcome change of pace. He'd been sitting at a desk for too long.

Walking slowly towards the elevator, he recalled a conversation he had with Hardy a couple of months ago when Hardy had turned down a promotion to detective chief inspector. Baxter had been laying into him for being unreasonable to decline but when Hardy passionately explained why he loved what he did and didn't want to change that, Baxter relented. Hardy had gotten rather agitated at the time and Baxter remembered the breathless arguing that was going back and forth. Hardy must have already been ill then without even knowing.

It hurt to see his friend suffer like that. He wished he could have noted the signs earlier, but Hardy had been rather accomplished at keeping things quiet. At least until this past week when Baxter caught him during an attack. It was a relief that Hardy had finally come to him for help and Baxter didn't hesitate to be there for him. But it came at a price. He struggled with the inherent conflict of the situation. Hardy was his friend, but he was also his boss and Baxter carried the responsibility for the investigation. They could not afford for things to be mucked about because his SIO was trying to die of his secret heart disease.

Baxter stopped abruptly, the sarcastic thought echoing through his mind. He _was_ dying, wasn't he? The realization hit him hard and Dr. Abbott's somber words finally sunk in. She had not exaggerated when she pointed out that if he were to continue, he would indeed undoubtedly succumb to his illness. Baxter finally recognized her breach of confidentiality as what it was - a desperate move to save her patient by giving him all the information he needed to stop Hardy from harming himself.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his brother's number. It was early but Martin would be awake already, always the busy cardiologist. After three rings he heard the familiar greeting.

"Baby brother! What's ailing you at this wee hour of the morning? Don't you usually sleep until the sun rises well above the horizon?"

Baxter rolled his eyes. He was well into his fifties and Marty still referred to him as if he was five. Some things never changed. He sighed and replied, "I need your advice, it's something medical."

"Medical, ey? You're not sick, are you?" There was concern in Marty's voice.

"No. It's not about me. Remember Alec Hardy?"

There was a huff on the other side. "The Scottish bloke who robs your sleep? Sure do. What did he do now?"

"I think he might be dying, Marty," Baxter admitted quietly.

"What? Why?" Marty exclaimed incredulously. "I saw his picture in the papers. He didn't look like someone on death's doorstep. Just like his usual grumpy self." There was a brief pause and Baxter could hear Marty's fingers tapping on a desk, a sure sign that something was nagging him. When he continued, he sounded pensive. "Actually, come to think of it, when he was on the telly the other day he did look a little haggard."

"I took him to a cardiac cath procedure yesterday and he almost didn't make it off the table." His brother let out a hiss, but remained quiet, waiting for the full story.

"His doctor made a point of telling me the full extent of his heart condition. He had been keeping it from me, stubborn arse that he is." Baxter's frustration was rising.

"What's wrong with him then? Sounds rather dramatic. Isn't he a little young for having his arteries clogged up?" his brother joked.

"No, Marty. He didn't have a heart attack. Remember when I asked you about irregular heartbeats the other day? He's got a serious form of arrhythmia. Hereditary, I think. It's called Long something or other." Baxter blanked on the diagnosis that Dr. Abbott had given Hardy.

"Long QT syndrome?" his brother prompted.

"Yup, that's it." Baxter confirmed, remembering the weird name.

"Now that's something you don't see every day. Has he had a cardiac arrest? You know, did his heart stop? That kind of thing?" Marty sounded way too intrigued for Baxter's taste.

"Yes, he did. His doctor told me that over a month ago he needed to be shocked and that he was lucky to be in the hospital at the time, otherwise he might not have made it," Baxter filled his brother in.

"And they let him leave that hospital without the pacemaker and ICD? Now that's surprising." Baxter could hear the hidden criticism of the other doctors' choices. He felt the odd need to defend Emily Abbott. She didn't deserve to be blamed for Hardy's moronic decision making.

"The idiot refused to get it and I'm pretty sure he might have signed himself out against medical advice. He's got a habit of doing so," Baxter sighed, remembering Hardy confessing to him after he nearly drowned. "Also, he jumped in a river to save a dead girl." Baxter shook his head and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Now that he understood more of Hardy's health problems that action seemed even more reckless.

"Sounds like the man has a death wish. Who's the lucky doctor? I don't envy whoever is taking care of him," Marty said curiously.

"Her name is Emily Abbott, works at South Mercia University Hospital. Seems rather invested in the stubborn knob."

"Oh, I know her –"

"Apparently you do. Maybe one day you could clue me in on the stories you spread about me," Baxter growled into the speaker.

Marty chuckled. "Maybe someday, little brother. Emily is an excellent physician, a bit green but nevertheless very good. Did she tell him he's going to die if he doesn't take care of this?" Marty was serious, amusement gone from his voice.

"She did. I was there. He ignored her. Typical. He's such a…" Baxter couldn't think of a satisfying curse word. He resorted to a heartfelt groan instead.

"So, why are you calling me, if you know all of this already?" Marty asked with a puzzled undertone.

"Because I don't know what to do. I'm his boss. Normally, I wouldn't question myself and would take him off this case, but he's also my friend, Marty, and I don't want to hurt him. I need to know how serious this really is. He almost didn't make it yesterday and they couldn't place the pacemaker, but he wants to come back to finish the job." Baxter was listening to himself, astounded that he was even considering giving Hardy a chance.

Marty slipped into professional mode, all joking gone from his voice. "Listen, Ed. The heart condition that your friend has is rare but in many cases fatal. A lot of people die much younger than his age from this. Frankly, I'm a little surprised he made it this far. He already had a cardiac arrest and survived by the pure chance that he was in a hospital at the time. If he doesn't get that pacemaker and ICD, it's just a question of time. I would also venture to say that he's not fit for the line of work you do. Stress is a killer for him, quite literally. Some forms of this disease get triggered by strong emotions and exertion. Even things like being startled or woken up by an alarm clock can set the heart off."

"I see," Baxter mumbled. His brother's words sank in and with it the realization of how impossible a solution seemed.

Marty sighed. "It's an evil disease to have. Hard to control. Is he taking medication? I hope he is, at least something to keep it at bay. You said he had a cath procedure and almost didn't make it? What happened there? That's a little unusual." The curiosity was back in Marty's voice.

"I'm not sure. She said that he was rather unstable throughout the case and they got him back because they were right there with their probes or whatever they were doing." Baxter wished he had paid more attention, but after Dr. Abbott had told him that there were complications, he couldn't process the information.

His brother hummed into the phone, thinking about what he had been told. "Hm, interesting. I'm curious about what happened. Maybe he had Vfib or something. Makes me wonder how risky a pacemaker insertion would be for him. These days it's a rather harmless procedure but who knows how bad his heart is already affected." He paused again. "Are you going to take him off the case?"

Baxter replied hesitantly, "I should, shouldn't I? It would be irresponsible as a boss, if I didn't."

"Forget about the job, Ed," Marty cut in. "You might save his life by making him stop and take care of this. He has a family, doesn't he? I remember meeting the girl, gorgeous kid. If he doesn't take this seriously, he's not going to make it. And I'm not being flippant about this. It's a fatal condition, Ed, don't let him tell you anything else. His career as a detective might be over, but at least he would have a chance to see his kid grow up. I'd say that's worth it."

Baxter took in a deep breath. They had found the pendant, the vital evidence that would bring the case to close. Hardy had done an excellent job on this. It wouldn't be like pulling him out in the middle of things. And simply thinking of Daisy made him come to a conclusion.

"I think you're right. The job's not worth it. He will hate me for it, but then it's in his best interest."

"Listen, if you need me to talk some sense into him, if he needs to hear it from somebody else but his own doctor, I'd be more than happy to do that. I know this guy means a lot to you - why, I have no idea, because he is a rude, grumpy bastard and God knows I wouldn't want to be his doctor - but that doesn't mean I wouldn't help him or you." Marty's offer was sincere.

"I might take you up on that. Thanks, big brother," Baxter said, grateful for the support. Marty grunted a goodbye in response and hung up. Baxter shoved his phone in his briefcase. It wouldn't be easy to tell Hardy that he was going to take him off the case, but he had no choice in the matter. Not as a boss, and even less so as a friend.

* * *

It was dark in the main CID room when Baxter walked in. He didn't turn on any lights, not quite ready to acknowledge the start of the day. None of his staff were there yet and the place was as deserted as the parking garage. Tess hadn't reported back to him about the latest news on the pendant. He didn't fault her, considering what had awaited her when she came home the previous night. He hoped that Hardy and his wife had finally talked and that Hardy was able to find some rest after the long day. He had been so worn out when he had left him.

Lost in his thoughts, he absentmindedly opened the door to his office. A shadow in the corner made him stop dead in his tracks. Startled, he dropped his briefcase and rushed over to the man curled up in a ball, leaning against the wall.

"Alec? What are you doing here?" Baxter stooped down, not eliciting any reaction. Hardy was sitting with his knees pulled up, right arm wrapped around his torso, left arm dangling from his propped up knees.

"Alec! Talk to me, what the hell is going on? Why are you in my office and not at home?" he shouted into Hardy's ashen face. The only response was ragged breaths. Deep furrows of pain were drawn over his closed eyes. Panicked over the utter lack of reaction, Baxter put his hands on Hardy's shoulders, gently shaking him. Eventually, Hardy's eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, unfocused and dull. He clearly was in some sort of shock, shivering with sweat gleaming on his forehead. Baxter's hand reached for Hardy's neck, feeling for his pulse. His skin was cool and clammy. Finally, he found the thready heartbeat. It was too fast to count and so weak. Baxter's stomach knotted up with fear, fear for his friend who looked like he was dying in front of his eyes.

"Jesus, where are those bloody pills, Hardy?" Maybe he could get him to take his medication and buy himself some time to call an ambulance. Frantically, he patted Hardy down. There they were in his trouser pockets. _Good man_ , at least he was smart enough to carry them with him. Hardy had taken two of the large tablets the other day, so he popped out a couple and grabbed the half-empty water bottle that was sitting on his desk.

He forced Hardy's mouth open, put the pills in, and closed it again.

"Come on, wake up, Alec." He lightly tapped him on the cheek. Then a little harder. He was desperate enough to actually slap him, when Hardy opened his eyes.

"All right, look at me. Swallow the pills, Alec. They're in your mouth, just get them down. Here's water." Baxter carefully placed the bottle on Hardy's dry lips and after a way too long moment, Hardy finally drank a sip and gagged down his medication. The relief was enormous.

He didn't waste any time on the sentiment though. Where had he put his phone? Never mind. He hurried around his desk to use his landline to call the ambulance.

Hardy groaned and Baxter shot him a quick glance to check if he was still conscious.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake._ The bloody fool was trying to get up. He dropped the receiver before making the call and almost tripped over his own feet, trying to get back and steady Hardy before he could keel over and hit his head on the corner of the desk.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Baxter yelled at him while he caught his fall.

Hardy mumbled something unintelligible, struggling for air. Baxter lowered him gently back on the floor. When he tried to get up, Hardy's hand had an iron grip on his wrist. Baxter had no idea from where Hardy took the strength, when the rest of his body was limp and shaking.

"Alec, let go. You're hurting me. I have to call an ambulance." Baxter was trying to pry his fingers open.

"No… ambu… lance." The words were breathless and barely audible. His grip didn't loosen.

"Alec, you bloody idiot, you're going to kill yourself."

Baxter froze when he caught sight of Hardy's expression. Hardy's eyes finally focused and the pain and desperation that looked back at him were nothing he'd ever seen in this man before. It couldn't be, but if he hadn't known better, he would have thought that his last words were exactly what Hardy was trying to do. But why? What had happened since the previous evening?

He kneeled down next to Hardy, putting his hand on his arm. His voice was gentle and soothing when he pleaded quietly, "Alec, please, tell me what's going on. You're scaring me."

His other hand reached for Hardy's wrist, feeling for the pulse again. It was slower, but still rather irregular. His breathing was heavy, a little more measured than before.

Hardy raised his trembling hands to his face, but was too weak to complete the motion. Baxter brushed his disheveled hair out of his eyes, making him more comfortable. Hardy opened his mouth, but only a croaking noise came out. He took in a few more breaths and made another attempt. His voice was gravelly, speech slurring with his thick Scottish accent and exhaustion alike.

" 's an aff'r" The words were unintelligible. Hardy realized it and tried again. He couldn't, not having enough air in his lungs. Baxter's anxiety was rising but he remained patient.

"All right, take some breaths. Try again when you're ready."

A few agonizing minutes passed until finally, Hardy was able to say the words that had shattered his world.

"She's havin' an affair." His breathless whisper rang loud in Baxter's ears.

Baxter sat up straight. Furious anger rushed through him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He heard what Hardy had said, but he couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Hardy took in another shuddering breath, tears now running down his cheeks. "Tess... is having... an affair... with Dave Thompson," he revealed stutteringly.

Baxter's face looked appalled. He moved back from Hardy and jumped to his feet. "You can't be serious about this?"

One look into Hardy's devastated eyes was all he needed for confirmation.

"Jesus Christ, that fucking woman!" Baxter's voice was trembling with anger. He started pacing, very much like Hardy would do, barely able to form a coherent thought. His mind was awash with fury and sorrow for his friend. He never liked Tess, but this? This was more than he would've ever thought possible.

"Please... don't... yell," Hardy was pleading, still struggling for air.

"I'm going to yell as much as I want. This is fucked up shit and I'm more than willing to say it out loud. How did you find out?" Baxter questioned sharply.

He didn't think Hardy could grow any paler but he did. He closed his eyes and winced in pain, clutching his chest. Baxter stopped his fruitless pursuit and stooped down next to his friend again.

"Alec? How?" he asked more calmly than he felt. He was afraid of the answer.

Hardy groaned and slumped over. Baxter caught him, holding him up.

"They... she..." He couldn't continue.

Cradling his friend's limp body, Baxter realized he had to get him to medical attention without further delay. He briefly contemplated the ambulance again. Hardy was too weak to protest anyway. Or he could drive him across the street to the A&E entrance himself. Might be faster.

"Alec, if I help you, can you get up? You need to go to the hospital, now. We can't wait any longer." He struggled to pull him up.

"They... lost... the... pendant." Hardy had finally managed to spit out the words he'd been trying to say.

"What?" Baxter cried out and unintentionally dropped Hardy to the ground. Hardy yelped in pain, unable to brace his fall, hitting his head on a chair.

"Oh my God, Alec. I'm so sorry. Are you hurt?" Baxter was more and more frantic. Did Hardy just say they lost the pendant? The evidence they had been hunting down for the past weeks?

Hardy didn't seem to care much about being banged up. He was struggling to continue with the ugly truth.

"They went to... hotel... to have sex... left the evidence bag... in the car... got broken into… it's all gone…" Despite being barely able to speak, Hardy's voice was filled with contempt and anger.

Baxter sucked in a sharp breath. He had to be certain he understood him correctly.

"Are you telling me that two of my detectives lost vital evidence while having sexual intercourse instead of submitting said evidence to a safe repository?"

All Hardy could do was nod. He was fading again. The fury that was raging through Baxter was driving his own heart rate up. He couldn't think of any other time he had been this angry. The level of disregard for professionalism was unprecedented. They had ruined the case and possibly the life of the man in front of him. It took all his strength to pull himself together and focus on the task at hand. He stored away the rage for later when he would be able to lay his hands on Tess and Dave Thompson. First he had to get help for his friend.

Baxter dragged Hardy to his feet and slung his arm over his shoulder. He took a tight hold around his waist, for once glad that Hardy was such a skinny fellow.

"Let's get you to the hospital, mate. Everything else can wait," he muttered under his breath. Hardy nodded and tried his best to stay upright. Baxter was grateful that nobody was in the main office, he'd rather avoid any commotion before he could think more clearly and make a plan of how to proceed with disciplinary actions. And the case. _For fuck's sake,_ this could very well mean that a child killer would walk free.

Hardy moaned and was hanging heavier on him. They leaned against the wall next to the elevator. It seemed like an eternity until the doors opened and the two of them stumbled into the cart. The walk to the car was agonizingly slow, but they made it. Baxter cursed, he should have called the ambulance instead. He shoved Hardy into the passenger seat, buckled him in, more to hold him up than for safety reasons. He ran around the car, jumped in and drove off, tires squealing. In the five minutes it took him to pull up at the A&E ambulance ramp, Hardy had lost consciousness and was barely breathing.

He waved his badge at the security guard and yelled at him to get help, now. Somebody assisted him with tugging Hardy out of the car and onto a gurney. He watched them feel for his pulse, assess if he was breathing. They started chest compressions while they were wheeling him inside, the A&E nurse kneeling on the stretcher with Hardy. There was a lot of shouting and people running around, hectic activity ensuing around Hardy's limp body. Baxter slumped against a wall and slid down to the floor, his arms shaking from the exertion of dragging his friend to get the help he needed so desperately.

And while he was watching them shocking him repeatedly with the defibrillator with no heart rate on the monitor, he was taken back all those years when Hardy had stayed with him the night he thought his daughter Emma was going to die. He closed his eyes and prayed to anybody out there who was willing to listen, something that he never did, but he had nothing else left to give. There was a pause in the commotion, and he lifted his gaze, prepared for the worst. Tears of relief were running down his cheeks when he saw the slow heartbeat crawling over the monitor. The stubborn wanker had made it once again.

* * *

"Mr. Baxter?"

Baxter looked around and recognized the voice. Dr. Abbott had finally made it to the hospital, taking over Hardy's care from the A&E team.

He was standing next to Hardy's stretcher, looking at the still figure of his friend. Hardy had a breathing tube down his throat and was hooked up to a ventilator. IVs were sticking out from his arms and more drips than Baxter could count were running into him. He nodded in acknowledgement, not feeling like talking.

"Can you tell me what happened after you left yesterday? I was under the impression you would take him home and make sure he'd rest. That's why I let him go." She couldn't quite rid her voice of the underlying accusation.

Baxter rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. "That's what I did. When I left him he was tucked in on his sofa, waiting for his family to come home. I have no idea why he went to the police station."

Actually, Baxter very much had an idea. His best guess was that Tess had called Hardy to talk on neutral ground.

Dr. Abbott's squinting gaze was resting on him. "I think you do know why and don't want to tell me. That's your choice. But it would be helpful to understand what set him off and basically killed him. You do realize that he was in full cardiac arrest for almost five minutes?"

Only five minutes? It had seemed so much longer. At the same time Baxter understood though, what possible effect this prolonged resuscitation could have had on his friend.

Quietly he asked, "Will he be okay?" He had spent enough time in hospitals and around doctors that he knew this question was impossible for them to answer at this point, but he still needed to hear it, either way.

It was Dr. Abbott's turn to rub her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know. His heart is in bad shape, it was already before this event. We'll have to see how hard it will be to control the arrhythmia after this insult. He needs that pacemaker but now we'll have to wait even longer until we can attempt placement because he needs to recover first. Without it, his chances of making it are slim."

She sighed. "We won't know how his heart stopping for so long will have affected his brain until he wakes up. I have him sedated for the moment, but I hope that by tomorrow I can let him come out of it."

Baxter's throat closed up. He simply nodded. His stomach was burning with an angry fire and he couldn't help but think that whenever he saw Tess next, it better not be somewhere alone as he couldn't vouch for his actions.

"His wife told him she's having an affair. With one of her colleagues," Baxter admitted under his breath. He didn't mention the other part to the story, it wasn't anything Dr. Abbott needed to know.

She sucked in some air. "Oh. I see. That explains a lot."

Baxter's ears perked up. There was more judgment in her voice than he would have expected from a physician. Curiosity won and he asked, "What do you mean?"

She hesitated a moment, playing with the pen in her hand. "When he was admitted for the first time, while his daughter was sick, his wife wasn't very nice to him, you know. He had just had a cardiac arrest at his kid's bedside and she was accusing him of having bad timing and leaving her alone in this situation. I kicked her out of his room because he couldn't take it."

Baxter remembered the phone conversation he had with Hardy while Daisy was in the hospital. Hardy had admitted to fighting with Tess. He said she was upset that he had left her alone because he needed to take a break as he got too emotional. At the time Baxter had thought that was a little odd but didn't pry further. _God,_ how he wished he had though and Hardy would have told him the truth then.

"She didn't visit him much and I think he felt rather hurt by that. As far as I know he never told her how ill he actually is. Or at least not the whole truth." She shook her head, her face sad.

Baxter took Hardy's cold and clammy hand. "Don't call her. I don't want her near him," he growled.

"Mr. Baxter, if he were to get worse, I don't have a choice," she quietly replied.

Baxter found her eyes. "Please, call me and I will deal with her," he pleaded. She nodded and Baxter felt relieved. Tess had no right to be at his side, not any more.

"What about his daughter? She should know, don't you think so?" Dr. Abbott sounded shy when she posed the question.

If it hadn't been impossible, his heart ached even more. "I'm sure he didn't tell her either. I'll talk to her mother and we will come up with a plan. We can't throw the poor girl into this without preparing her. She's a great kid but she's only thirteen. I've known her since she was in preschool, I promise you we'll figure something out." Baxter tried to be as reassuring as he could.

Dr. Abbott stayed mute. Her eyes were glittering.

"You know I care about him, yes? More than I should probably, being his doctor and such. I think you also figured out why. He reminds me of my late father who was as stubborn as this bloke. It was extremely tough on me that my father never told us about his illness until he couldn't hide it any longer. Don't do that to his daughter. And I've told Alec that, more than once, trying to encourage him to be open."

Baxter couldn't help himself but smile. "I noted, he lets you call him Alec?"

She wiped at her tears and nodded again. "Yes, he does actually. Never thought about it. As a matter of fact, he calls me by my first name too."

Baxter's eyebrows rose. Now that was something new. "He must like you then. I mostly get a growled 'sir' and get snapped at as soon as I dare call him Alec," he said with a lighter tone.

Their eyes met. She looked so sad and Baxter couldn't help but put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her encouragingly.

"He'll get through this and then we'll make sure he will be taken care of. No excuses this time," Baxter promised her and himself. The cards had been dealt, everybody had shown their hands and it was time to quit playing. There were no winners, only losers in this sorry game of deceit and betrayal.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is another part I wrote a long time ago and I was anxious if it still held up when I revisited it. After my trusty editor gave up correcting mistakes half-way through this chapter due to emotional brain melt, I venture to say it might have. So, all mistakes are mine this time around (not that they ever aren't anyway, but there might be a few more than usual). Also, hazelmist is still accepting donations for a new keyboard as she must have broken the capslock this time around.

And for all the anxious people out there who would like to yell at Tess... Baxter will do so in the next chapter. You may join him wholeheartedly.

Oh and I do apologize for the melodrama - I get sucked into it easily and the story ain't over yet. So consider yourselves warned.


	32. CHAPTER 31

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for your comments and your patience... I hope you'll find Baxter's encounter with Dave and Tess satisfying enough... it might not be the last ;-)

* * *

 **CHAPTER 31**

After Hardy was transferred to the cardiac ICU, Baxter left the hospital. Hardy was in good hands with Dr. Abbott around. She had promised to call him immediately if anything should change. Now, he could turn his attention to frying different fish.

He inquired into DS Henchard and Thompson's whereabouts at the station. He wasn't sure what he wished for - catching them together or individually. When he was informed that they were both out, his face turned red with pent up anger. Tess was first on his agenda.

The phone rang a few times and then went to voicemail, thwarting his need to yell at her to the unsatisfying task of leaving a demand for an immediate call back on her machine. His mobile was dangerously close to being chucked out the car window. He took in a deep breath and let it out, then dialed Thompson's number, only to be greeted by the sergeant's chipper voice message.

 _For fuck's sake_. He hit the steering wheel with his flat hand. If it wasn't already extremely frustrating to be unable to get a hold of his senior staff, the thought of them together made him sick.

His phone went off and Tess' name lit up the screen. Again, he breathed deeply, composing himself. He needed to keep it professional.

"Baxter here," he growled.

"Sir, sorry I missed your call. You wanted me to ring you back?" There was trepidation in her voice. She wasn't dumb, at least not in that respect, and probably knew that Hardy must have told his boss by now.

"Where are you currently, DS Henchard?" He purposefully kept it formal.

"I'm driving back to the station, sir," Tess answered curtly.

"I will meet you there. When you get back go straight to my office and wait for me. Do not talk to anyone, do not touch any paperwork or work on anything else. Do you understand?" Baxter ordered.

"May I ask why?" came Tess' annoyed reply.

The nerve this woman had. His voice got lower with the suppressed anger. "DS Henchard, it would behoove you to not test my patience at this point in time. You very well know why and we will discuss details in person. Consider yourself suspended until further notice."

She was silent on the other end.

"Is DS Thompson with you? And don't you dare lie to me, it will have dire consequences." There was no doubt in his voice that this wasn't an empty threat.

"Yes, sir. He is with me," she admitted begrudgingly.

Baxter sucked in some air. He wanted to punch something so badly. Falling back on his many years of experience, he pulled himself together in order to not lose it right there and then.

"I see. Put him on," he ordered sharply. There was a muffled back and forth and then Thompson was on the line.

"Sir?" His voice was trembling.

"I expect you to come back with DS Henchard. Go and wait in DI Hardy's office for me. Do not talk to anyone, do not work on anything. You are suspended until further notice. We will discuss details when I get there," Baxter barked in the phone.

"Sir, what if DI Hardy is in his office?" Thompson sounded like he was going to start crying any minute. Hardy was right. He was a wimp.

"Trust me, he's not going to be there," Baxter snarled at Thompson. The image of Hardy's still and pale body flickered through Baxter's mind. Suddenly all the anger was gone, replaced by sorrow and grief over what had happened to his friend.

"Put DS Henchard back on." The phone was passed over. Baxter scrubbed down his face.

"If I don't find the two of you where I told you to go or if I have any indication you were not following my orders, this will be the end of both of your careers. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" Baxter's voice was as cold as ice.

She hesitated a moment with her answer. Oh, how much he hoped she would dare to talk back and he could rip her apart like she had ripped apart Hardy. But she didn't do him that favor.

"Yes, sir. Perfectly clear. We will be there in ten minutes." The defiance in her voice was palpable.

He hung up the phone without saying anything else. God help them, if they were not at the station when he got there. He put his car in gear and drove off to deal with this absolute clusterfuck.

* * *

He decided to take on Thompson first. When he swooped into CID it was suspiciously quiet. His staff was smart enough to realize something was up. He assumed they all had at least some idea that they had a major breakthrough the day before. And they all probably noted that their DI was now missing the second day in a row which was an unprecedented event.

He confirmed that Tess was waiting in his office before he walked to Hardy's door. He barged in without knocking, startling a very pale Thompson. His DS jumped to his feet.

"Sit!" he ordered while taking the spot behind Hardy's desk. If his friend couldn't be here to take down this piece of shit, then he would do it for him.

Thompson perched at the edge of the chair, one leg nervously bouncing up and down. Baxter let him steep for a while, simply glaring at him. He then leaned forward, putting his fingers together at their tips.

"Here are the rules, Thompson. I'm going to ask you some questions and you will answer truthfully and directly. If you want to preserve any chance of staying on the job, you better do as I say." Baxter didn't leave any doubt of his seriousness in his voice.

Thompson nodded obediently, growing a shade paler.

"Which one of you decided to go to the hotel instead of bringing the evidence straight back to the station?"

When Thompson stayed mute, Baxter yelled at him, "Answer! And don't try to protect her. Trust me, she's not the most loyal person, but you would know, wouldn't you?"

Thompson hung his head and quietly replied, "It was Tess. She was so excited she'd found the pendant. She really wanted to celebrate before going home to Ha –" Thompson stopped himself from mentioning Hardy when he saw Baxter's expression of sheer anger.

Baxter balled his hands into fists. Between clenched teeth, he continued, "Who left the bag with the evidence in the car?"

"We both didn't think of it. We were… distracted." Thompson's pale face turned dark red.

"By what? The lovely color scheme in the parking garage?" Baxter's words were dripping with sarcasm. He wanted him to say it, admit to the adultery and the utter breach of conduct and professionalism.

Thompson knew he had lost. "No, sir. Tess and I were snogging at the time and we didn't think of the bag."

Baxter hit the table with his flat palms, rising to his feet simultaneously. Thompson jumped on his chair spooked by the sudden outburst. Baxter was shouting now and didn't care if the rest of CID could hear him.

"For fuck's sake, Thompson!"

He breathed heavily with the effort to control himself. He could barely restrain the urge to grab Thompson and punch him in his sorry face. It took him a few minutes to be able to continue. Eventually, he sat down again.

The contempt that he felt was evident in his tone and choice of words. "Maybe if you had thought with your brain instead of your cock, a child murderer wouldn't walk free."

Thompson opened his mouth to say something but was smart enough to remain silent.

"You're suspended until further notice for breach of conduct and losing vital evidence. I'm inclined to make it unpaid but your family should not suffer from your stupidity and disrespect for your work as police officer. Get out of my sight before I do something that I will regret later."

Thompson couldn't scramble out of the door fast enough. Baxter was still breathing hard. He waited a few moments until he trusted himself not to look like a raging lunatic while walking through the main office to face Tess. Thompson had been easy, the real task was still ahead of him.

* * *

Tess was sitting comfortably in the chair, not giving any signs of dreading the conversation to come. She dared to greet him with a smug smile. He had all the intention of wiping that off of her face.

In his overwhelming anger, he had finally reached the eye of the storm and was calmer than he had been since he first walked into his office this morning to find Hardy. He needed her to admit to things of her own accord and she wouldn't be as easy to crack as Thompson.

He didn't greet her when he took his chair behind his desk. He made a point of keeping his face and voice neutral, an effort that cost him a lot. All he really wanted to do was scream and yell at her for what she had done to his friend. And even as her boss he felt the strong urge to give her the bollocking of a lifetime and then sack her.

"DS Henchard, you were entrusted with vital evidence for the case you're currently working on. You were under instructions by your SIO to take said piece of evidence back to HQ. As of this moment, this evidence has not reached the forensics department. What is your explanation?"

Baxter was hiding behind formalities, knowing that would draw her out. It had worked.

She snorted. "What game are you playing at? I have no doubt that Alec had nothing better to do than come crying to you."

She sure knew how to push his buttons as well. Baxter's fury was back. So much for the eye of the storm. He clenched his hands and desperately tried to keep it together. If he were to leave the path of professionalism, she would win.

"DI Hardy reported the evidence as lost. I am more than interested in investigating the circumstances under which this happened. So, I'm asking you one more time to provide an explanation." He kept his voice level, surprisingly able to hide his true feelings.

She raised an eyebrow. "What did he actually tell you?" She sounded less secure than only a moment ago.

 _Gotcha_. Baxter smiled slyly. "Let's just say, I feel invested in hearing your side of the story to be fair to all involved."

He could see her contemplating what it might have been that Hardy had told him. He felt pleased that he was able to use her smug belief she could outsmart people against her. He had always disliked that about her. She rubbed her hands together and Baxter's smile turned into a grin. She was getting nervous. Time to deliver the next punch.

"DS Henchard, I have already spoken to DS Thompson who was known to be in your company when you left the site of the search. He was very forthcoming with his version of events."

That finally wiped that smug smile off of her face. It was a low blow but Baxter had no qualms about it.

She frowned. "What? Why would he do that?" She sounded hurt.

And although it had been Baxter's intention to use her feelings for her colleague to get her talking, it still made him angry to see that she'd care more about what Thompson said than Hardy. Angry enough to rub it in deeper.

"Seems he's not the most loyal person out there. Not surprising though, considering… well you now."

Baxter chose to trail off and leave it to her imagination what he was considering. Maybe not entirely professional but worth seeing her struggling with it. It was his turn to don a smug smile.

She was getting angry. "I'm not so sure that you're truly interested in hearing my side of the story. You've always been on Alec's side ever since I've known you."

Baxter had enough. The rage he'd been bottling up the whole time was bubbling over. "Of course I am, someone's gotta be. And clearly it ain't you," he threw back at her, his voice getting louder.

"Oh wow, that's where you're coming from. Poor Alec, who needs a friend. Ever considered that he only needs someone to indulge his self-centeredness? Because if it doesn't have anything to do with him, it's not on his radar. He even forgot Daisy's birthday. So much for being the great father he pretends to be," Tess spat out the words, losing all pretense.

Baxter was taken aback at her contempt for the man she had shared her life with for almost two decades. A man who was more dedicated to his daughter than most he had seen. He didn't want to get sucked into a personal argument but he couldn't hold himself back from defending Hardy.

"Oh shut up, Tess. That's not what happened and you know it. He forgot the bloody party, not her birthday. And it's not like you helped him remember it either. In fact you used it against him and drove a wedge between them. How desperate for attention are you to use your own child as a weapon in your petty fight?"

She squinted and her mouth was twitching. "Really? You're so fucking righteous, you and him both. He's only got eyes for that girl anyway, he stopped looking at me a long time ago. I guess he should have though, maybe he would have noticed something. It's a miracle he ever solves a case, because when it comes to seeing what's directly under his nose he's rather incompetent." Tess was livid, yelling just as much as Baxter had.

"So that's your excuse then for shagging your colleague while you're still married to the man," he snapped back at her.

She snorted. "That's none of your fucking business."

"It most certainly is, when it leads to you screwing up and losing vital evidence in the process," he countered.

That shut her up. But only for a moment. "Dave didn't remember to take the stupid bag either."

Baxter huffed. "You sure are quick to throw him under the bus. Can't own up to your mistake, can you? He said it was your idea to stop." He added with disgust, "To celebrate yourself and your great accomplishment of finding evidence in a place that your _'incompetent'_ husband thought to look for in the first place, mind you."

She jumped up from her seat. "I don't have to listen to this."

Baxter got up equally as quick and barred the door with his body. "If you think you can walk out of here without making a full statement about what happened, you're very wrong."

"Who the fuck do you think you are to block my way?" s he barked back at him and tried to shove him aside.

He would never have thought he'd ever feel the urge to punch a woman, but the physical contact was riling him up. It cost him extreme restraint to not engage in any more violent behavior than merely brushing her hands away.

"I'm your fucking boss, Tess. That's who I am. And as such I'm telling you, you're finished with this shit. If you're not giving me the full story right this moment, the next thing I'm going to do is call DPS to open up an internal investigation. I don't give a shit that you're Alec's wife and that he will get dragged into this and that his career will probably take a hit as well. He would be the first to agree to my actions, and you know why? Because he's got integrity and a backbone, something you never had. Because he always takes the fall for his team, something you lot don't even know about him. You're nothing to me, Tess. Nothing!" He spat out the last words, contempt not hidden any more.

She glared at him for a few long moments. Knowing she had lost, she finally slumped onto the sofa.

"Fuck it. It's all over anyway." Her voice was still angry, but maybe, just maybe it was anger at herself. She sucked in a few breaths and continued, her voice irritatingly calm.

"We stopped on the way back. At a hotel, so we could have some privacy and enjoy ourselves. And yes, if you want me to say it, we were having sex. It was my idea, but we both didn't think of the bag in the back of the car. They rang our room because my car alarm was going off. When we got there the evidence bag with the pendant was gone. I dropped Dave off and drove to the station. I waited for a bit then I called Alec to tell him to come and meet me there."

She hadn't looked at him once. She was wringing her hands, staring at the floor.

Baxter didn't hold back with his disgust for her actions. "This is on you, Tess. I've seen a lot of misconduct and lapses in professionalism in my time, but this is on a different level. You didn't only ruin yours and Dave's career, but also Alec's, and what's more important the case. And if this bastard walks free because of your inability to reign in your adulterous need for an afternoon shag, then I guarantee you your career is finished."

She was still fighting back. "Are you threatening me? Because if you are, I might throw in the mix that you let your DI work on the case although you knew he was sick. How's that for screwing up the case?" Her viciousness was dripping of her like a snake's venom of its teeth.

Baxter suddenly became very quiet. "You knew he's ill? And you let him go on like this?" He couldn't believe what she had said. How could she have cared so little about him?

She shrugged. "He chose to. That's his business. He said he was taking care of it and that you knew about it. If he wants to be stupid about it, it's his prerogative."

Baxter flipped. "God damn you, Tess. You know very well that he's shit at taking care of himself. That's why he needs his family. To help him. Even your daughter knows it. What kind of a person are you to leave him hanging like this?" He was shouting by the end.

Angry tears were stinging his eyes. He forced himself to calm down, although he welcomed the heat of this fury burning through him.

"Oh, get off of your high horse. You're such a fucking hypocrite," she snarled back at him. "You knew and you let him work instead of taking him off the case. Did he tell you the same horseshit about being unable to let the families down? Is that how he convinced you? I'm sure he didn't tell me everything, because he never does. He's such a stubborn arse about things like that."

Baxter felt defensive. He had to admit she did have a point there. "I didn't know how ill he actually is until yesterday. He said he was taking care of it, told me about his doctor's appointments. After I found out, I was going to take him off the case first thing this morning. Never got around to do it though," he ended, regret lacing his quiet words.

The image of Hardy curled up in his office ghosted through his mind. He sucked in a deep breath and plopped down on his chair, scrubbing his face down with his hands.

"Ed, where is Alec?" she asked quietly. Her tone had changed. The anger and contempt was gone, replaced with worry. "I left him here last night and he never came home but he wasn't at the station this morning either."

Baxter sighed. "He's in hospital, Tess."

"What? Why?" She sat up straight, eyes wide, making Baxter wonder if she could actually be truly worried.

He hesitated, not wanting to share the truth with her as he felt she had lost her right to know. But then he thought of Daisy. His voice was hollow when he answered.

"Alec was in my office this morning. He was rather out of it. The arrhythmia was making his heart go to shit and I barely got him to A&E across the street. They –"

"What do you mean his heart was going to shit?" Tess interrupted him. "And what arrhythmia? He told me they were still figuring out what's wrong with him." She seemed genuinely shocked by the news. It was painful to admit it, but it was dawning more and more on Baxter, how deceitful Hardy had been about his health issue.

"I guess whatever he tried to tell you was quite far from the truth," he sighed and found her eyes. She looked scared, a different person from merely minutes ago. It was hard for Baxter to reconcile the gaping disconnect between her vicious lashing out and now this obvious concern. It made it easier to share though.

"Tess, Alec has a serious heart condition, some form of arrhythmia. He missed work yesterday in order to undergo urgent pacemaker placement. They couldn't do it though, because his heart wasn't able to tolerate the procedure." He watched her face grow paler with every word. The urge to point out that she was shagging another man while her husband recovered from a life-threatening intervention was strong but judging from her expression, he didn't need to. Her meek display of remorse didn't make any of it less despicable and he despised her for her actions.

His tone more and more accusatory, he continued, "He was supposed to rest at home but I guess you had a different idea. Had to drag him out to his office, didn't you? Did you cry over your own misery to make him come?" he spat, unable to hold back. She flinched at his stab and he felt a deep satisfaction with her reaction.

"You had impeccable timing, striking him when he was most vulnerable. Gotta give you that, Tess, when you go for the punch you make it count," he hissed, losing himself in his contempt and sorrow. He didn't care that maybe some of his accusations were unfair as Hardy hadn't told her the truth. It didn't matter because she should have seen it if she'd only looked.

She opened her mouth, but he silenced her with a daggered stare. She dropped her gaze, shoulders drooping.

"After you left him there, he must have had an attack. When I found him this morning, he was in bad shape, barely able to talk, struggling to breathe. I took him to South Mercia A&E. By the time we got there, his heart had stopped and it took them almost five minutes to get him back. He's in the cardiac ICU now. He hasn't woken up yet."

His voice was trembling by the end of his story and there were tears in his eyes. He didn't care though if she saw him like this. Hardy was more than just his DI, he was his friend. Her face was pale, a hand covered her mouth and she was crying. After all that had transpired, Baxter found her reaction surprising.

Without a word she stood up.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet." He put all his authority in his words and she stopped.

"I'm going to see my husband, if you don't mind," Tess replied sharply.

The words set Baxter off and all the worry, anger and emotional roller coaster of the morning got the better of him. She wasn't going to play the loving wife card to get out of his office.

With his voice low, he growled, "In fact, I do mind. What I'm going to say next, I'm telling you as Alec's friend, not as your boss or in any way related to this job, just to be perfectly clear about it. You have lost your right to be at his side. You could have been there and you threw it away. When he needed you, you chose to close your eyes and take the easy way out. Whatever half-brained things he told you, it was convenient to not pry further and so you didn't. What you did and the way you told him, basically killed him and if you dare to go anywhere near him, I will personally make sure that you will regret it."

He had gotten up while talking and moved into her personal space, with every intention to convey the threat not only verbally but physically. She glared at him, folding her arms over her chest, attempting to brace herself against his onslaught.

He continued, his voice eerily calm. "The only reason why I even told you is because of Daisy. She needs to know what's going on with her father, especially if things should get worse. You might want to wait until he wakes up before talking to her, because I strongly believe it would be important to him to tell her himself. But you're her mother, so I can't tell you what to do. I hope you will make the right decision and give him the chance to explain himself properly. And that includes whatever is going on between the two of you as well. If I should hear that you bad-mouthed him to Daisy trying to explain away why you chose to cheat on your husband of almost fifteen years, I can't guarantee for my actions. Have I made myself clear?"

She didn't say anything or move.

"Answer me!" he shouted at her.

"Yes, you have. Fine. I won't say anything to her yet. What do you want me tell her though about her father not coming home? Any instructions for that?" she replied sarcastically.

Baxter scoffed. "You're unbelievable. I'll leave that up to your imagination. I have faith in your abilities to make up reasons why a person might not be home, considering how well you've been hiding your affair. I will let you know how Alec is doing."

He moved away from her. "You're dismissed."

Before she opened the door, he addressed her again. "And as far as the case goes and your job. You're suspended until further notice. Do not touch anything that has to do with the case. As all of you are out of the picture, I will take over the investigation and see what I can salvage. I expect you to leave the premises promptly without making a scene or talking to people. That's an order."

She nodded in acknowledgement and left without another word. Baxter was utterly drained. This was worse than any nightmare. His best detective and SIO was fighting for his life, struck by heart disease that he had kept a secret and would have made him unfit for duty, his adulterous wife and colleague had jeopardized the most profiled case his department ever had to deal with, and he didn't even want to think about the fall out if the killer in the end were to walk free. He dropped his head on his desk, resisting the urge to repeatedly bang it against the wood. And he had thought yesterday had been a long day. He couldn't have been more wrong.

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter, just like the previous one and Tess' confession, was written quite some time ago and has been on my mind all the while writing the story leading up to these moments. Baxter might be speaking for many of us and whoever wants to chime in, please feel free. At least this time I don't have to hand out tissues [I'm saving them for upcoming chapters ;-)]


	33. CHAPTER 32

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for their comments. The story goes on... *eyes stack of tissue boxes; sighs and gets more*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 32**

There was a knock on Baxter's door. He didn't want to see anyone but considering that he was the only senior officer left, he probably shouldn't be fussy.

"Come in," he shouted, disgruntlement audible.

DC Swenson stuck her head in. "Sir, could I have a word with you, please?"

Baxter waved for her to come in. She stepped through the door and stayed there, shuffling her feet insecurely. Her eyes flitted from his desk to the wall, then to him, and back to his desk.

"What is it, Swenson?" Baxter sighed at the sight of his timid junior detective.

"Erm… I was wondering… I mean… I was trying to…" She faltered, too nervous to produce a proper sentence. Baxter pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Swenson, out with it," he growled, patience wearing thin. She shrunk in front of him but then straightened up and looked him in the eye.

"Sir, who's leading the investigation now? I mean, DS Henchard and Thompson left and DI Hardy hasn't been to work in two days. The pendant never made it here and –"

"How do you know about that?" Baxter interrupted her roughly. There was a tight knot in his stomach. Her face was red, but she was still looking at him intently.

"Sir, I was there when we searched the car. DS Henchard took the evidence, but when I went to check the forensics log this morning to update the paperwork on the case file, it was never noted as brought in and catalogued. I was going to ask her but then she stormed out and –"

"Who else did you talk to about this?" Baxter inquired carefully, voice low. He couldn't let this information get out. If the press were to catch wind of it, they'd be done for. The whole case would be done for.

"Nobody. I came to you, sir." Her words were as quiet as his. Her bright eyes held his piercing gaze, not even blinking once. No wonder she had earned Hardy's respect.

"Sit down please," he ordered, gesturing to a chair. She lowered herself across from him, her scrutinizing stare unwavering.

"How many people participated in the car search yesterday?" he wanted to know.

She tilted her head and squinted at him. After a few heartbeats, she answered, "There were DS Henchard and Thompson and myself from CID, and then Burke, Smith and Carlisle from SOCO."

Four people besides Tess and Thompson. Baxter rubbed his chin. Maybe it could be contained. "How many people know we found the pendant besides those that you've named?" he questioned pensively.

"I'd say most people in CID do. Or at least they heard that we found something significant yesterday. Don't know about SOCO and forensics," she said. Then, after a pause, she added anxiously, "Sir, what happened?"

Baxter stared at her. He wrung his hands, trying to come up with a good answer. There wasn't one.

"The evidence was stolen. We don't have it any more," Baxter stated stiffly.

Her mouth gaped open and her hand came up to cover it. "Holy fuck," she muttered behind her fingers.

"Precisely," Baxter agreed wholeheartedly. They sat in silence for a while until she spoke.

"Sir, is DI Hardy all right?" Her voice was soft.

"What?" Baxter's head whipped up and his burning eyes found hers.

She bit down on her lip and her face turned a crimson shade again. "I was wondering because when I realized that the pendant was missing, I reviewed the CID security cameras. I saw DS Henchard come here and go to DI Hardy's office. A while later DI Hardy walked in, well, more like limped in. They were in there for a while. Then she left and he came out shortly after." She paused and took in a deep breath. "He staggered through CID until he more or less fell through your door. You showed up early in the morning, went to your office and then after some time came out, dragging DI Hardy along with you. He looked awful." There was the tiniest quiver in her voice when she said the last words.

Baxter couldn't believe that she would make the effort of reviewing the CID security footage after she noted that their vital evidence was missing. It was a smart move and Baxter made a mental note to keep Swenson on his radar for promotion. He understood why Hardy thought she was a good detective.

"Sir, he's ill, isn't he? I asked him about it a couple nights ago but he didn't let on. I'm worried about him," she confessed shyly.

Baxter closed his eyes briefly, trying to shed the image of his friend lying still on the hospital bed. It didn't quite work. When he opened his eyes to Swenson's concerned face, he buckled.

"He's not well. I took him to A&E this morning and he's in hospital now. He's quite ill," Baxter revealed reluctantly. He watched her face pale and her eyes moisten. "Please don't tell anyone. He wouldn't want that," Baxter requested quietly.

"Of course not. You don't need to worry, sir," she was quick to reassure him. There was another silent moment between the two. Again it was her who spoke first.

"You know, Burke, Smith and Carlisle are good coppers. They can keep things quiet if you know what I mean. Maybe you should talk to them, get them in one room and come up with a plan. I'll be happy to be there as well." She gave him an expectant look.

Baxter leaned back on his chair and searched her face. She seemed sincere about her suggestion. It wasn't the worst idea. Maybe he could at least control _how_ the story would get out. He was under no illusion that sooner or later the news would leak and the press would have a field day with it. He dreaded the moment already. It was such a colossal screw up that, if they were all to come out of this with their jobs, they should consider themselves the luckiest people on earth. Not that Tess or Thompson deserved to keep their jobs. By no means. He was thinking of Hardy and himself.

"Fine. Get them together and let me know when you're ready. And I'm taking over the lead of the investigation, you'll be my second in command," he said, running his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get on it." Her eagerness was endearing and her smile when he named her his deputy didn't go unnoticed. Before she opened the door, she turned around.

"Is he going to be all right?" She didn't need to specify who she was talking about.

"Honestly, I don't know," Baxter sighed, giving in to the need to share the glum news.

"Would you mind telling him that I hope he'll get better soon? I'll be thinking of him," she said, with a red face that looked so worried that it hurt Baxter.

"I will," he promised solemnly. He hoped he'd get a chance to do so.

* * *

Baxter scrutinized the faces of the forensics staff in front of him. Alvin Smith and Steve Carlisle were senior members of SOCO and had seen a lot while being on the force for years. James Burke was young but Baxter had heard he was loyal to his two older colleagues. DC Swenson was leaning on the wall in the corner of the room, arms crossed over her chest, and quietly observing the scene.

Baxter cleared his throat. "Thanks for coming. I called you here because I need your cooperation with a delicate matter."

The three men exchanged a glance. Surprisingly, Burke came forward as their spokesperson.

"Sir, is it about the pendant? It's missing," he stated matter-of-factly.

Baxter felt Swenson's eyes on him. "Your assumption is correct. I was notified this morning by the SIO, DI Hardy, that the evidence has been stolen from a police officer's civilian car." He paused to see their reactions.

Burke's face pulled into an angry scowl, but Smith and Carlisle stayed impassive, waiting to see what was coming next.

"How's that even possible? Tess and Dave took the pendant and were going to bring it back to the station. What the fuck did they do?" Burke questioned angrily.

Smith leaned forward and put a hand on Burke's arm. "Jimmy, let him finish," he ordered the younger man quietly, but his eyes never left Baxter's face.

Baxter didn't have much more to say, unless he wanted to reveal the full extent of the sad story. He hesitated, having a hard time with admitting to Hardy being cuckolded by his own subordinate. He pressed his lips into a thin line, staying silent.

"Sir, what happened? If you want us to help you deal with the situation, you have to be more forthcoming," Swenson urged him.

He looked up at her, remembering how she had spoken out for Hardy that morning after the slanderous article in the newspaper. That had only been four days ago. The world had changed since then.

"Before I'm going to share confidential information with you, I want to preface that the intention of this meeting is not to hush things up, but to save what we can of the investigation. Can I count on your discretion and to keep things inside this room?" Baxter asked, eyes wandering from one to the other. They all nodded.

With a heavy heart, he continued, "DS Henchard and DS Thompson stopped on their way to the station. They left DS Henchard's car in a parking garage of a hotel with the evidence inside, unattended. The car was broken into and the evidence was taken."

Burke was the first to pose the question that was on all their minds. "And why would they do such a stupid thing?" he asked, voice low.

Baxter squirmed in his chair. He tugged on his shirt collar, feeling hot and uncomfortable.

"Does it need saying?" Swenson hissed from her spot in the corner. Her face was cloudy and her blue eyes were stormy. Baxter had to admit, seeing soft and timid DC Swenson like that was unsettling.

"No, it doesn't," Carlisle grunted, speaking for the first time. Baxter knew him as a man of few words. "Where is the car? Have we taken a look at it?" Carlisle added, falling back on familiar territory to ease the tension.

Carlisle had a valid point that Baxter hadn't even thought about. He must be getting old. Or maybe he could claim dragging Hardy's half-dead body to A&E as sufficient distraction to have forgotten such a basic thing as securing the crime scene.

"I don't know. I assume DS Henchard is driving around with it or maybe took it to a shop," Baxter speculated.

"She shouldn't. We need to take a look at it, see if we can find anything that might help us identify the perpetrator," Carlisle said firmly.

Without hesitation, Baxter pulled out his phone and called Tess. This time, she picked up promptly.

"Tess, where is your car now?" he barked into the speaker, skipping over all formalities.

"In my driveway. Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"Don't move it or touch it. I will send forensics over to have them take a look at it," he let her know and hung up before she had a chance to talk back.

"It's at their house. She's expecting you." Baxter heard the disgust in his voice when he mentioned her. He wanted to be more professional but couldn't. It was too much to ask at that very moment.

Carlisle acknowledged him with a nod. "We'll keep it quiet. We don't gossip," he assured Baxter.

"I appreciate it. And so will DI Hardy." It was Baxter's only admission to the fact that his friend had been utterly humiliated by his wife. "I will deal with CPS and the chief. Thank you for your cooperation."

The three men got up and made their way to the door. Smith was slow to leave, clearly having something on his mind. "Sir, where's DI Hardy? Haven't seen him in two days. It's not his usual style to stay away from the action. If he'd been there…," he trailed off.

Baxter could feel the color leave his face. Before he could open his mouth, Swenson growled, "He's been taken ill. And you better not go around and tell people he didn't do his job right."

"Oh, god no. I never would," Smith replied aghast. "He's the most professional police officer I've ever met, I didn't want to imply anything. It's just that people have been talking. There was a rumor that there's something wrong with him, considering the way he's been looking lately. Also, the uniforms say he's been using them to drive him around. And one of the housekeeping staff said he found him one morning in his office having something like a heart attack. He got worried. That bloke's wife cleans our house. So, she asked my wife about it who then asked me. People like to gossip, you know. I stayed out of it, but it did make me wonder." Smith gave them a sheepish glance which was met with a blank stare by Baxter.

Baxter appeared calm on the outside when he spoke, while a storm was raging within. "I would appreciate it if you could refrain from discussing DI Hardy's private life in public. Whatever aspect of it. I understand that a police station is a breeding ground for rumors but if anything of this leaks to the press, all hell will break loose and we won't stand a chance of getting Ashworth convicted. Do you follow me?"

"Absolutely, sir. That's exactly why I didn't talk to my wife about it. You can count on my discretion," Smith reassured him. "Oh, and if you see DI Hardy, please tell him I hope he'll be better soon." With that Smith left.

Baxter dragged his hands down his face and muttered a heartfelt "Fuck."

"Precisely," Swenson imitated his own answer from a few hours ago. "I think that went well though. They'll cooperate. Now all we have to do is to come up with a solid plan. I'm confident we can fix this," she added, attempting to sound optimistic. She failed.

"Swenson, this is a nightmare," Baxter sighed. "I already told CPS yesterday that we had the pendant. It's a cornerstone of pressing charges against Ashworth. If we can't find the damn thing – and you now our chances are slim – we're in a very bad position. I'm going to talk to the Chief Constable after this because I can't keep it to myself, it's too big of a deal. It's not only Tess and Thompson's heads that are going to roll, Hardy and I are going to take a hit as well."

"But that's ridiculous. The two of you didn't do anything wrong," Swenson blurted out. Baxter's gaze rested on her flushed face. She was so young and clearly naïve if she thought that Hardy and he wouldn't have to pay a price for the mistake of their subordinates.

"Annie, listen to me and learn," he said softly, beckoning her to sit next to him. "When you're a senior officer, you're always responsible for what your team members do or don't. Why do you think Hardy is so tough on you lot all the time? Why do you think he is so hands on? Because he knows that whatever happens will fall back on him. Once DPS finds out that he wasn't there they will ask questions and then his health issues will come up, I have no doubt about it. And then they will ask me how come half the station seemed to have noted that their boss is ill and I let him continue to work the case? And they are right to ask those questions. We are all guilty in this. We all lose. But the people who really lose are the families if this bastard walks free. Do you understand?"

She stared at him with wide eyes, then nodded. "I do, sir."

"Good. Now go and see what the three of them can find in Tess' car." He sent her off to what he knew would be a wild goose chase, while he mentally prepared himself for the shit storm that was coming his way.

* * *

Chief Constable Liz MacMillan was the oddity in the South Mercia Police Constabulary. Despite it being the 21st century there were still very few women who had risen through the ranks as swiftly as her. Only a few years senior to Baxter, she had had a stellar career with no scandals attached or any obvious favoritism played. Her achievement was even more astounding because she was a decent human being, pleasant and very understanding. Unfortunately for the situation at hand, she was also a stickler for rules and held professionalism above anything.

He remembered coming to her before hiring Hardy almost a decade ago when she was still Assistant Chief Constable and discussing the Carter case with her. Only after painstakingly going through all reports, all the evidence and witness statements, and grilling Hardy for two hours, she was satisfied that there hadn't been a breach of conduct and that in fact Hardy had done a commendable job. Ever since then she had followed Hardy's career closely, and if Baxter didn't know better, he'd say she had a sweet spot for him.

Baxter mulled over his options, hovering around MacMillan's office until she finally stuck her head out.

"Ed, will you stop stalking my door and come in already? I've got plans this afternoon and by the look on your face, I get the feeling I might have to cancel," she said, vigorously waving her hand to make him come inside.

He loitered at the door while she retreated behind her large wooden Victorian desk. She peered at him over her glasses, rolled her eyes and told him to take a seat.

"Ed, why are you here? You only come to me if you've got a problem that you can't solve yourself. Which happens less often than a lunar eclipse. So out with it before I lose my patience," she ordered him.

Baxter scratched his chin and avoided her piercing eyes. "It's the murdered girls. We made an arrest and…," he trailed off, squirming under her gaze.

"Ed?" she growled. "Is this because of Hardy's past being dragged through the press?"

He shook his head. "No. I wish it was that simple. We arrested our main suspect with mostly circumstantial evidence. Hardy is convinced he killed at least the younger girl. Yesterday, we found and searched a car that the suspect had sold three days after the murders took place. We found a piece of jewelry, a pendant, that the girl was wearing the day she died." He paused, not wanting to continue with what he knew would send his boss over the edge.

"And?" She drew out the three letters, wary of what was to come. Her hand absentmindedly reached for a pencil.

"The officers who were taking the evidence back to the station left it unattended in a car. The car was broken into and the evidence was stolen," Baxter finished, anger barely hidden from his voice.

MacMillan took in a sharp breath. "What on earth compelled them to leave the evidence unattended?" she asked pointedly. She was twirling the pencil in her thin fingers.

Baxter felt his face turning red. "They stopped at a hotel and parked the car in the garage. They forgot the bag with the evidence in there when they left."

"Excuse me? They did what?" she cried out in disbelief.

Baxter pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting to hide badly. "They said they forgot to take it because they were distracted," Baxter muttered under his breath.

"Distracted? By what, for fuck's sake?" she hissed.

"Snogging," Baxter mumbled barely audible.

The pencil she'd been fidgeting with snapped in two pieces. Baxter dared to raise his gaze to face her. She was bright red and her dark brown eyes were glowing with anger. He'd never seen her like that before.

"Who?" was all she could press through clenched teeth.

"DS Tess Henchard and DS Dave Thompson," Baxter stated quietly.

"Hardy's _wife_?" All blood left her face and she turned pale.

"Yup," Baxter sighed.

"Jesus, what a fucking mess," she uttered. "How's Hardy taking it?"

It was Baxter's turn to lose color. "Not well," was all he could get out.

"Ed?" she prompted him, worry lacing the single word.

"Ma'am, DI Hardy is in hospital. He's recently been diagnosed with a serious heart condition. The stress of the case paired with the latest development put him over the edge and he's currently in SMUH's cardiac ICU," he confessed, banking on her caring about Hardy.

"Oh my god. Is he going to be all right?" she asked shocked.

"We don't know yet," he replied with a tremble in his voice.

MacMillan was quiet for a while and Baxter was sure she was assessing the information she had. Then she squinted at him, a question on her face. "You said, Hardy's health problem is recent. Did he know about it while he was working on the case?"

There was a reason why Liz MacMillan had the career she's had. Her sharp wit and astute reasoning skills were legendary and Baxter had feared she'd arrive at all the missing pieces quickly. Not that he didn't want to own up to his responsibilities in this mess, but it wasn't easy to admit to his shortcomings.

"Apparently he did, ma'am," he answered, intently studying the intricate wood carvings of her desk.

"Did you?" she continued her interrogation.

"Not until about a week ago. And I had no idea how serious it really was until yesterday when I accompanied him to a procedure. He –"

"Hold it right there. _Both_ of you went to a doctor's appointment instead of supervising the car search?" she interrupted him incredulously.

Baxter stared at her wide-eyed and with no good explanation. If she put it that way, it did sound rather irresponsible.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? What were you thinking?" She jumped up from her chair and started pacing, circling her desk and him.

When he didn't say anything, she continued her rant, "I have no bloody idea why Hardy thought he needed to get this procedure done in the middle of such a high profile case. But I would have thought you'd have better judgement than that. Obviously he was healthy enough to work, otherwise you wouldn't have let –"

"Liz, he's dying," Baxter interrupted her not louder than a whisper.

She stopped and stood very still. Her eyes were boring through his, while he filled her in.

"He desperately needs a pacemaker but because of his disease it's a very risky thing to do. He wanted to finish the case first, but he got so ill that he couldn't wait any longer. He asked me to come with him because he never was able to ask his wife to do so." Baxter snorted in disgust, thinking about what Tess had been up to while Hardy was fighting for his life. "They couldn't complete the procedure because he was too ill and I took him home afterwards. This morning, when I came to my office I found him there. Tess had called him in to tell him about the pendant and I guess chose that moment to reveal her affair with her colleague. He couldn't take it. By the time I got him to A&E his heart had stopped. They got him back after almost five minutes. He hasn't woken up yet."

She was still standing in front of him, face pale and impassive. Her heavy breaths were the only give away of her emotions. Baxter ran his hands down his face.

"He's my friend, Liz, I couldn't let him down. I had to go with him. We both thought Tess was reliable. Turns out, we couldn't have been more mistaken. If I had had any idea what was going on between her and Thompson, I would have never let them work on anything together. It destroyed him, Liz," Baxter added, voice shaking and eyes filling with tears.

She lowered herself onto a chair next to him, one hand cupping her mouth, the other gently placed on his arm. They sat in silence until both had composed themselves. Eventually, she spoke.

"How many people know the exact details?" she asked.

Baxter took in a deep breath. "There's Tess and Thompson of course. Then DC Swenson from my team, and Burke, Smith and Carlisle from SOCO. They all know about the pendant being stolen from Tess' car. The four officers besides the guilty couple have a pretty clear idea why the car was left unattended."

"Hm," she grunted. "What have you done with them?"

"I suspended Tess and Thompson and took over the investigation. I talked to the SOCO team and Swenson. They are all cooperative in the sense of keeping it quiet for now. CPS knows we had the pendant and we used it to charge Ashworth. I haven't updated them yet, thought I should talk to you first."

"Christ, Ed, your team majorly fucked this up, you realize that, right?" she snarled. "Starting with your SIO hiding a life-threatening disease that clearly made him unfit for duty to two of your sergeants behaving in the most unprofessional way I've seen in a while. How on earth do you want me to fix this? And you know I'm not going to turn a blind eye on this. I can't. This is too outrageous." She was properly angry as she should be.

"I didn't come to you to sweep this under the rug. I wouldn't. As you said it's too outrageous. But I need your help with CPS and trying to salvage what we still can. I don't want the press to find out because if they do, Ashworth is guaranteed to walk free. If we keep it quiet and CPS is game we might have a chance to still convict him," Baxter argued. "I'm more than willing to take the overall responsibility for this failure, but I would appreciate it if we could keep Hardy out of it until we know if he's even going to make it out of the bloody hospital." His voice was breaking with the thought.

MacMillan looked at him for a long time, jaw twitching. Then she got up, walked around her desk and took her official spot.

"Fine. I'll talk to CPS. I have a good connection with the current prosecutor. He might be willing to uphold the charges and let it go to trial. I have no idea what will happen there, but at least we have to try to get him convicted. Henchard and Thompson stay suspended until further notice. You've got the weekend to come up with a suggestion for proper disciplinary actions. I have my own ideas but I want to see what your thoughts are. As for Hardy…," she paused and let out a deep sigh. "Let's see what happens before we discuss what to do with him. It doesn't sound like he's coming back anytime soon."

Baxter looked up into her sad face. "No. It doesn't," he agreed, defeat echoing in his words.

"I'll keep you updated." He stood up slowly, tired from the day and the responsibility he carried.

"Are you going back to the hospital?" she asked with a very different tone in her voice. He nodded.

"The poor man," MacMillan said. The sorrow underlying those three words was too much for Baxter to bear. He sucked in some air and covered his stinging eyes, desperately trying not to start bawling in front of his boss.

"It's all right, Ed." Her kind voice soothed him. She had come to stand next to him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "He means a lot to you." She let out a quiet laugh. "I'm sort of sweet on him too and I know that you know that. It's hard to believe considering what a grumpy knob he usually is. But he's a good person and he cares. Too much at times, I think. He'll get through this and then we can both yell at him together for keeping his heart condition a secret. That's something to look forward to, right?" She tried to cheer him up and for a brief moment it worked.

He shot her a small smile and nodded again.

"When he wakes up, give him my best wishes, would you mind?" she asked shyly.

"I will. And thanks Liz."

"Don't mention it. Now go and keep the grouchy Scot company. He shouldn't be alone right now." She nudged him gently out of her office.

The heavy door closed behind him and Baxter leaned against it. The small smile he'd had on his face grew wider. Nobody would believe him that hardarse Chief Constable MacMillan just admitted to having a soft spot for hardarse DI Hardy. If it hadn't all been so miserable, it would be funny.

* * *

On the way to the hospital, Baxter called his wife to let her know she shouldn't wait for him with supper. He blurted the whole story out before she could even get a word in. When he was finally done, she remained silent for a while and then only said one thing.

"Alec is your friend. We will take care of him, no matter what happens. He won't be alone." Her voice was strong and loving, giving Baxter the strength to go on.

"Thank you, honey. I love you." He had never meant it more than tonight.

"I love you too, darling," Louise said softly before she hung up the phone.

Baxter sat in his car in the parking garage for more than ten minutes before he felt calm enough to go back into that hospital. The endless nights he had sat vigil at his daughter's bed had left a deep scar in his memories and he never wanted to set another foot into that building. He slowly climbed out of his seat, locked the doors and trudged through the busy hallways towards the cardiac ICU.

Hardy's room was dimly lit by the monitors, the green glow of the IV pumps and a night light over the head of the bed. The regular swooshing sounds of the ventilator contrasted by the beeping of Hardy's unnervingly irregular heartbeat served as an eerie soundtrack for Hardy's medication induced sleep.

His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open with the breathing tube sticking out to the side. There was an abundance of tape holding the tube in place, plastering his pale face. An unhealthy sheen of sweat covered his grey skin. His skinny figure was outlined underneath a white sheet. There was a large IV catheter sticking out from the right side of his neck and a multitude of tubes were snaking away from him to the IV pumps which were trickling who knows what into him.

Baxter stopped dead in his tracks at the door, taking in the whole picture. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and told himself, that it was going to be all right. He stepped closer and pulled up a chair with trembling fingers. At first, he didn't dare touch Hardy and he settled on watching his chest rise and fall with the artificial breaths that were being pushed into him. In a way, he looked peaceful in his slumber. But then Hardy's face twitched in pain. An alarm went off, the lights went on suddenly and a troop of hospital staff barged in. Emily Abbott walked in at the back of the group. She gave some quiet orders and people busied themselves around Hardy. Someone wheeled in the defibrillator and when whatever they were trying to do with medications didn't work, Emily Abbott sighed and grabbed the paddles. Hardy's heart rhythm returned to its questionable version of normal after only one shock this time.

People filtered out as quickly as they had come in, leaving Emily Abbott alone with Baxter at Hardy's side. She approached the still figure of her patient, put her hand over the outline of the burn mark that the defibrillator had left, and felt for the beat of the faulty organ in his chest.

"This was the third time since the morning that we had to do this." She shook her head and bit down on her lips in frustration. "I wish we would have done that bloody pacemaker insertion weeks ago. He wouldn't be where he is right now if I'd been more insisting."

Baxter brushed Hardy's matted fringe out of his face. "It's not your fault." His hand cupped Hardy's head and he looked down fondly on his friend. "There's a seriously stubborn soul inside this brain. He wasn't ready to listen until it was almost too late, not to me and not to you, Dr. Abbott."

"Call me Emily please," she said quietly, a shy smile on her face.

"Only if you call me Ed," he replied, smiling as well.

"Don't stay all night. He's not going to wake up yet. I'm not letting him until his heart settles down a bit, probably by tomorrow morning. You should be here when we take out the breathing tube. He could benefit from the support," she said with a sheepish glance at Baxter.

"I'll be there. I left my number at the desk. Please call me immediately if anything changes," he pleaded.

"Of course, Ed." She nodded reassuringly and excused herself.

Baxter sat down again and this time took Hardy's cold and clammy hand. He remembered the things Emma liked to hear about when he came to be with her on those lonely nights. She always wanted to know how his day had gone, the ordinary tales of the outside world instead of the sorrow stricken words that her father had in mind.

"Hi Alec, it's Ed," he began awkwardly. "Just came from work. It's been an odd day as you can probably imagine." His voice faltered for a moment. "I yelled the shit out of Thompson and Tess, for whatever it's worth. They are both suspended. Talked to the lads from SOCO. Reasonable men." He sighed. "Maybe I should retire, you know. I'm getting a bit rusty. They had to remind me to search Tess' car after the break in. I doubt they'll find anything useful but who knows."

He rubbed Hardy's palm. Then he smiled. "You should have seen Swenson. You'd be proud of her. She's rising to the occasion. She's a good copper like you said. Gotta give you that. She sends her well wishes. So does Alvin Smith and Chief MacMillan. They all want you to get better soon...," he trailed off, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

He hadn't been able to do it with his daughter then and he couldn't do it with Hardy now. The emotions were too overwhelming.

"Alec, I'm so sorry I didn't take better care of you," he cried quietly, giving in to his intense feeling of guilt. No matter what he had told Emily to console her, deep inside he knew that he should have been stronger, that he should have sent Hardy on medical leave right that moment he had witnessed him having an attack, that he should not have given in to the temptation of Hardy insisting on finishing the case. He had accused Tess of conveniently looking away, but was what he had done that much better? He didn't know.

He stayed until way past midnight. Hardy didn't have any other episodes and Baxter was grateful for that. He allowed himself the tiniest glimpse of hope when he drove off into the night.


	34. CHAPTER 33

**A/N:** To everyone who's still with me... thank you! Alec is going to a dark place... be warned, this chapter is not a happy one and also not for the faint of heart. *hands out tissues and lends a shoulder to cry on*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 33**

The first thing breaking through the haze in his brain was a sharp chemical smell stinging his nose. He tried to hold his breath but couldn't because something was pushing air into his lungs. Something was also shoved down his throat making him gag and retch. He coughed but there wasn't any sound. Panicked, he tried to reach for his mouth but a sharp pain in his hand stopped him from moving. His eyes fluttered open for a split second, only to fall shut immediately, his consciousness not quite ready for visual stimulation.

"Alec..."

He recognized his name but whatever else followed was incomprehensible. He was fighting the force that continued to push air into his lungs. Again, he attempted to open his eyes but the light was too painful.

"Alec, cough!"

He obeyed the familiar voice and did the best he could. The sensation of something being ripped out of his chest and throat was horrifyingly frightening and he gasped for air. It was hard to breathe, but he realized there was nothing any more that was forcing it on him. It took him a moment to recognize the ragged noises of a person breathing were his own. There was a flow of air around his mouth and it became easier to fill his lungs with it.

"Alec, can you open your eyes?" the familiar voice asked.

He didn't want to. He didn't want to come back to this world where he was so alone, surrounded only by pain. He couldn't quite remember why he felt that way, only that it was the last thing on his mind before everything had gone dark.

"Alec, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand." The voice was anxious. It was a woman. He could feel her hand in his. It was warm and gently rubbing his palm. It made him feel better and he was grateful, so he squeezed her hand.

"Oh, thank God, he heard you," a different voice chimed in. This one was a man. Baxter. His friend who didn't let him go to the dark.

"I hope so. I'd feel better though, if he opened his eyes," the woman said. Emily. His doctor who took care of him despite his stubborn behavior. He didn't want to disappoint her again, so he forced himself to move his heavy eyelids.

The light was so painful he groaned. And then it got better. He blinked a few times until the blurriness subsided and shapes became clearer. White ceiling tiles crawled into focus and he let his gaze drift around until he found a face. She was smiling at him.

"Hi Alec. Welcome back!" she greeted him gently, putting her hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth feeling the need to say something - he didn't quite know what - but she shushed him anyway.

"Shshsh, don't try to talk yet. Your throat's all sore, give it a bit."

He closed his eyes again, feeling overwhelmed by all the light and colors swirling around him. His world was in a state of confusion. He felt sluggish and couldn't quite formulate a clear thought. He was trying to remember how he got wherever it was that he was now. His mind was adrift and he was about to doze off when her bloated purple face jumped at him like a jack in the box. He jerked his eyes open and screamed. Or at least he thought he did, but all that was coming out of his mouth was a croaked gasp.

Things around him started beeping and people were frantically talking over each other. There was pain in his chest and his heart was pounding away. He felt a burning sensation on his hand and then crawling up his arm until it was gone and his heart calmed down. He tried to keep his eyes open, scared of the ghost he'd seen.

"Alec, you have to calm down. Please try and rest. I don't want to sedate you again," Emily pleaded with him.

It cost him all his strength to explain. He barely recognized his own hoarse voice, his words all slurred as his mouth didn't quite want to follow orders.

"'er face… cannae close... m'eyes… she's there," he stammered.

She brushed his hair that stuck to his forehead out of his face. "It's just a bad dream, Alec. I know you're confused and this is all a bit much, but believe me she's not really there. Try to go back to sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up." Her voice was soothing him and she was stroking his head, calming him down until he started to drift off. He was almost gone when they talked more.

"He seems rather out of it. You don't think his brain –"

Baxter's worried voice was interrupted by Emily. "Not here, Ed. He might be awake enough to listen. And the answer is, I don't know." She sounded just as concerned. He wondered why, but never finished his thought before falling asleep.

* * *

When Hardy woke up again, he was alone. It was easier to find his bearings this time and he quickly realized he was in hospital. Oxygen was whistling into his nose via a cannula and there was something tugging on his neck. Squinting down his side, he brought up his trembling hand and realized it was a large IV line which connected him to a multitude of IV pumps to the side of his bed.

 _Christ._ If they had put that thing in him it must have been bad. And it had been. In fact it still was. Memories of the previous night – had it been longer than that? - were pouring into his mind.

 _Tess crying… her smug smile… her derision for him… her confession about the affair… with fucking Dave Thompson of all people._

He didn't know where to begin naming his emotions. He felt impossibly hurt and shamed alike, but foremost he felt betrayed and so utterly lonely.

' _But I don't love you anymore'_

Her words were burned into his memory, leaving a gaping wound behind. He never knew, didn't have the slightest idea. How could he have not seen it? Had he? All the fighting and rejections, all the stabs at him not being a good father, all those times she hadn't been around. How could he have not realized what was going on?

He shifted in his bed and a sharp stab in his chest made him almost pass out. _Bloody hell_ , another broken rib? He peeked under his gown and was rather taken aback by the sight. There was bruising over his sternum and burn marks in the shape of the defibrillator paddles. He swallowed hard and tried to remember past his conversation with Tess. He couldn't really. There were some fuzzy images of Baxter in his office, maybe a car ride, but nothing beyond that.

What he did recall though was the pain, the incredible physical and emotional toll that Tess' confession had taken on him. He was breathing harder now and he noted the beeping of the monitor pick up the pace, soon to be followed by the familiar empty sensation in his chest. He welcomed it. Why shouldn't his heart reflect how he was feeling inside? He gave in, drifting off into the dark, only wanting to escape the despair.

They didn't let him though, forcing a breathing mask over his mouth and pushing air into him. When the defibrillator delivered its excruciatingly painful shock, he wanted to hit them, defend himself, but was too weak to do so. Tears were running down his face and a whimper escaped his throat. He wished for it to end so badly, it hurt.

"Alec?"

He heard his name and struggled to open his eyes. Somebody wiped gingerly at his wet cheeks.

"Alec? Can you hear me?"

He recognized Emily Abbott's voice and held onto it. He tried to speak, but couldn't. Finally, he managed to lift his leaded eyelids. Her face was blurry but after he blinked away some of the tears, he was able to focus on her kind features. She looked so worried.

"'M s'rry," was all he could think of saying, feeling guilty for making her so anxious.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief. "What do you think you need to be sorry for, you bloody idiot?"

"'S not g'd bedside m'nners… callin' y'r patient idi't," he mumbled, grappling to get enough air into his lungs.

Her clear laughter rang in his ears. "Look at that, barely alive and yet being cheeky with me."

The worry was leaving her expression which made him feel better. He still was very confused and it was hard to focus on what was going on around him.

"Wha' happen'd?"

She tilted her head, contemplating her next words.

"Tell me, please," he demanded breathlessly.

"All right. Ed Baxter found you in his office on the morning after the cath. You were in bad shape, probably suffering from the effects of a serious attack or near cardiac arrest. We don't know. Do you remember that night?" she asked cautiously.

His eyes fell shut. She knew, Baxter must have told her. She was just testing if he did as well. Trying to protect him presumably. He nodded.

"Talkin' to Tess…" He sucked in a breath, flinching with the pain of the rib fracture.

"Right. And after? Do you remember anything after?" She remained guarded.

He moved his head side to side on the pillow.

"Not really." His words were becoming clearer now and his brain was less sluggish.

"Ed brought you to A&E. Alec, your heart stopped for almost five minutes and we barely got you back." She paused, letting him take in the information.

His mind was slow, unable to filter his thoughts. Before he could hold back, he said, "Maybe you shouldn't have."

She was equally slow with hiding her shocked expression. "Alec…" she whispered, at a loss for words.

"I'm tired, can I sleep now?" He didn't want to talk any more. What had been said was said and he was too worn out to think about it. His fingers found their way to rub his stinging eyes, desperately hiding more tears.

She lightly grazed his shoulder. "Of course. Rest. We'll talk more when you wake up," she said with a sad voice. She gave him a quick squeeze like she always did, comforting him. It was the last thing he remembered before drifting away.

* * *

Baxter had gone to grab a quick cup of tea after they had taken out the breathing tube. Hardy had still been rather sedated and had gone back to sleep. Baxter didn't want to leave, but he also knew from experience that if he didn't make an effort to take care of himself while spending his days in the hospital, it wouldn't end well. Emily was around, so he didn't feel quite as guilty about leaving Hardy alone.

When Baxter returned, he found Emily right outside Hardy's room. She was leaning against the wall, hands buried into her hair, hiding her head in between her elbows. She looked distressed and was breathing hard. If Baxter had to guess, he'd say she was trying to regain her composure.

Worried something bad had happened, he approached her. "Emily, what's going on?"

She lifted her head and his stomach clenched up in knot. Her eyes were glittering with tears.

Fearing the worst, he asked, "He's not…?" He couldn't finish his sentence.

She shook her head. "No, but he wants to be," she whispered, unable to say it any louder.

Baxter's body stiffened up. He was stunned. That was not what he had expected. Obviously Hardy was deeply wounded by his wife's betrayal, but that? Hardy had never struck him as someone who would give up on life. Being as stubborn as he was, it seemed so contradictory to his nature. And even if his world was shattered by his wife's adultery, there was always Daisy. It looked like someone needed a stark reminder of his priorities.

Baxter's expression reflected his determination. "Is he awake?"

"No, he wanted to sleep. But I think it's an excuse. What he really wanted was to avoid talking," she replied, hanging her head. She seemed so defeated, it tugged on Baxter's heart.

Baxter stepped closer and put his hand on her arm. "I assume you've seen him with his daughter?" She nodded. "Good, because she is what will keep him going. I'll talk to him. There are some things you don't know about and I can't tell you, active police investigation, but he'll have to face those as well. He's in a bad spot but I've known him for almost a decade and he's going to fight his way out of it. He always does. He's way too stubborn to not put up a fight."

She looked at him, doubt darkening her eyes. "Everyone has their breaking point, Ed. He might have reached his. You were not there just now. Be careful how hard you push him, he's rather fragile at the moment. His heart can't take much more." She sounded very protective and if Baxter didn't already like her, he would most definitely do so now.

What if she was right though? Besides having to come to terms with Tess' affair, Baxter had no idea how the loss of the pendant might affect Hardy. He had the tendency to be extremely hard on himself for even minor mishaps, may they be of his own doing or of his team. Baxter rubbed his tired eyes.

"I'll be gentle. Unfortunately, subtle doesn't work so well with him. He's gets rather headstrong when he's got something stuck in his brain," he sighed, exasperated already.

She smiled. "Tell me about it. Should have figured that out when I caught him half naked trying to escape from the ICU."

Baxter gaped at her. "He did what?"

She chuckled. "After his first cardiac arrest, he got antsy in the middle of the night and tried to sneak out of the ICU to see his daughter. Caught him by the elevator, hospital gown barely covering him up and clinging to his IV pole to not fall over. He passed out on me before I could give him a piece of my mind. Wanker."

Despite all the heartache, Baxter had to laugh. "God, I hope he will not use that on me when I'll be giving him a bollocking at work. I'm done dragging him to the hospital."

Emily was suddenly serious again. Holding his gaze and with a somber tone, she said, "Ed, I'm sorry to tell you, but I don't think he will be able to get back to active duty any time soon. Not after this, and definitely not without that pacemaker. Considering what happened during the cath, it was unclear then how long we would have needed to wait to be able to do the surgery reasonably safely. Now it's impossible to predict. And even if he gets to the surgery and survives it, I'm not so sure that he should continue this line of work."

Baxter stared at her. He hadn't thought about that. Losing his job would be devastating for Hardy. _Christ,_ there sure was a lot riding on that girl of his who didn't even know yet how ill her father was. He took in a deep breath and opened the door to his friend's room.

Hardy was sleeping, his body lying perfectly still. The ashen color on his face was an improvement from the day before. An oxygen cannula was stuck up his nose, replacing the breathing tube. His heartbeat crawled slowly but steadily over the monitor.

Baxter pulled over a chair, sat down and took Hardy's hand like he had before. It was still cold and clammy, a stark reminder that his friend was a long way from being healthy. At least there would be one good thing resulting from Hardy's inability to come back to work. He wouldn't have to worry any more about being his boss and could simply be his friend. Because one thing was clear, this man needed one.

* * *

The room was dark when Hardy opened his eyes again. He had waited for Baxter to leave. He felt guilty but at the same time he was frightened having to talk to him. All he wanted was to be left alone. He didn't know what day it was or how much time had passed but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered besides one thing.

 _'But I don't love you anymore.'_

Her words echoed through his mind, louder and louder until he wanted to scream. All that escaped his throat was a choked up gurgle accompanied by pain in his body and his mind alike. The smell and the noises of the hospital together with the eerie lights from the various pieces of equipment were closing in on him, weighing down on him. He needed to get out of here, run away from everything, be by himself. Vanish physically like he was vanishing in his mind.

The monitor started alarming, irritating him more in his anguish. He fumbled in the dark and found the leads. The glue stuck to his hair on his chest and it hurt when he ripped them off. He briefly contemplated pulling out the large IV in his neck. When he tugged on it, the sharp pain from where it was sutured to his skin made him almost pass out and he let go of it. He propped himself up, struggling to a sitting position. His mind was foggy, solely able to focus on his need to escape this place.

By the time half the hospital staff barged into his door he had clambered to his feet hanging on to the IV pole for dear life.

"What the hell are you doing?" one of the nurses shouted at him, stress wiping away all professional pretense.

"'M leavin'," he croaked, taking an unsteady step towards the door. His aching body protested but he didn't care. He needed to get away from it all, save himself from the horror his life had become. The lights blurred and spun around him. He put another foot forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw three people coming for him. They easily tackled him while he was desperately trying to dodge them.

A frantic struggle to get him back to bed ensued. He ducked under the nurses' grasp. Whatever strength he had relied on left him at that moment. A yank on his neck was followed by a sharp pain that rivalled the explosion in his chest. His heart failed to pump properly, his vision became fuzzy and the noise around him distorted.

In an unexpected moment of clarity he realized that the big IV on his neck had been pulled out when he had fallen to the ground. He could feel the sticky dampness of his own blood on his back and shoulders. The cold from the floor seeped into his bones reminding him of rivers and dead children.

"Jesus, put pressure on it..."

How ironic would it be if he in the end bled to death and it wasn't his crummy heart that would do him in? The idle thought made him smile and he feared whatever of his sanity remained was leaving him together with his warm blood. He chuckled.

"Get another IV in him... needs sedation... push that fluid bolus..."

The code alarm went off and the chaos was only getting bigger with more people arriving. The world around him was spinning but he more and more felt oddly removed from what was going on. The cold was burning him now, but he didn't care. Soon it would all be over and he embraced the thought. The loneliness sucked him under and he let it.

"Go get the defibrillator... and call the blood bank."

"Alec!" Baxter's face swam in and out of focus and he reached for him, suddenly scared of what was to come. He tried to hold on to his friend's panicked eyes and voice.

"Ed," he breathed under the oxygen mask that someone had placed over his mouth and nose. He felt a firm squeeze on his hand and a voice very close to his ear.

"I'm here Alec, I'm here. Stay with me." He wasn't alone. He could come back to something. Maybe he should?

Then the hand was gone, replaced by people tugging on his arms, sticking needles into him. He groaned and tried to pull away but was too weak. The black was closing in rapidly now. This time he tried to fight it, Baxter's words pulling him back from the edge. He lost the battle and right before he passed out he felt another rib break when someone started chest compressions and his world melted in the hot white nothingness of pain.

* * *

Baxter was walking down the hallway to find Emily when the overhead code alarm of the ICU went off. He noted at first one person jogging to the room he had just come from and then all hell broke loose. Panicked, he ran back only to witness a horrifying scene.

Hardy was spread-eagled on the floor, lying in a puddle of his own blood. A nurse was using a towel to apply pressure to the neck, desperately trying to stop the bleeding without strangling her patient. People were shouting and rushing around.

Hardy was awake in all this chaos, gasping for air and his eyes darting around aimlessly. His face was getting greyer by the second. Baxter pushed himself past the hospital crowd. He called Hardy's name and was relieved when Hardy answered. He grabbed his hand, reassuring Hardy he was there with him. He wanted to think that his friend had heard him and that right before his eyes closed, there was a flicker of life in them. But then someone shoved him over, pounding on Hardy's chest, keeping his body alive.

The code alarm was blaring and Baxter thought he was in a bad movie scene while the resuscitation unfolded in front of him. They couldn't shock him until they had moved him to the bed, for fear they'd electrocute themselves while they were all standing in his blood. They dragged his limp body onto the mattress all the while struggling with stopping the bleeding and doing chest compressions. Finally, they had him where he needed to be and they got his heartbeat under control. Someone was hanging a bag with blood that they squeezed rapidly into his veins.

Baxter watched in fascinated horror when the surgeon stitched up the ripped open blood vessel and the commotion died down. He was shaking in the corner of the room, too stunned to move or say a word. The surgeon was getting ready to place another one of those big IV lines that Hardy had just yanked out of him. He avoided the bulky dressing on the right side, preparing the left carefully. Emily stopped him, a furrow etched between her brows.

"I don't think you can go there, George. He's going to need a pacemaker and ICD and if you use those veins on the left side we might have to do an open operation instead. He's not going to survive that. He barely made it through the cath the other day and that was before all of this."

Baxter didn't like the panicked sound of her voice. He had come to know her as a calm and composed physician. Seeing her like that made his stomach crunch up and his own fears soared. He balled his hands into fists, desperately trying not to fall apart.

"Your favorite patient here needs central venous access if you want him to make it at all," George, the surgeon, snapped back. They stared at each other for a moment, fighting a silent battle. Then he sighed.

"Fine, I'll do a tunneled line on the right side avoiding the injured blood vessel. Hopefully he's not going to bleed to death from that," he growled. "And you should sedate the shit out of him or even better restrain him. What the hell is the matter with this bloke anyway? Does he have a death wish?"

When George, the surgeon, saw Emily's face he fell silent. She had paled and tears were moistening her eyes. He walked over to her, pulled her into a quick hug and pecked a kiss on her cheek. It dawned on Baxter that George, the surgeon, might not only be that, but most likely Emily's spouse. He spotted the rings on their interlaced fingers, confirming his conclusion.

"I'll get it done, don't worry," George, the husband, promised, voice soft now, wiping a tear from her face. He smiled and turned around to do what he had set out to.

A nurse approached Emily, placing a hand on her back. "You know, he didn't pull it out himself. We found him up and I think he was trying to leave like he had done before. The line came out when he fought us and fell. I don't think he was lucid. He seemed so frantic."

Emily nodded and took in a deep breath. She ordered some medications and restraints. They discussed moving him closer to the nursing station in one of the rooms with the glass doors to have a better eye on him. Still, nobody had noticed Baxter. It wasn't until the smell of blood combined with the bleach in the cleaning fluid irritated his nose and his stomach finally turned, that someone realized he had been watching all along. He was retching in the trashcan when Emily came up to him. Her hand rested on his back and when he was done, she helped him up and handed him a paper towel to wipe his mouth.

"Ed, were you here the whole time?" she asked gently. He nodded, unble to articulate anything. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen this."

"And he shouldn't have been alone in this," he snapped back. "He was awake the whole time, even when you started the chest compressions. Nobody talked to him, you guys just left him like that. Treated him like a piece of meat, not like a human being." He was angry, maybe more than he should have been but his ability to hold back had faltered and he was quickly losing any composure he might have had.

"I'm sorry, you're right. We were fighting not to lose him." Her tone was flat. She walked him out of the room, allowing her husband to proceed with his surgery. They ended up in the family room. Baxter slumped down on a chair as did Emily.

"I shouldn't have left. He woke up and was alone and look what he did to himself," Baxter berated his actions. The guilt was growing in him and he didn't know how to handle it. All the tension was falling away, taking with it whatever had been holding him up until now. He tried to calm down but to no avail. First there was one stifled sob but then all the events of the past days caught up and kicked his legs out from under him.

He didn't know for how long he had cried, but eventually there were no more tears. He ran his hands over his face and looked up. Emily was sitting next to him, her eyes swollen and red.

"Do you think he tried to kill himself?" Her voice broke with the question. Baxter froze. He hadn't dared to think about it but now that she put it out in the open he couldn't look away. It took him a big effort to slip into detective mode and assess the facts.

"Your nurse said he didn't pull it out. Yes, he tried to leave but as you've told me, he's done that before. She also said he seemed not quite with it, so maybe he was simply confused and was trying to run. To me it looks like an accident. I do think though we can't leave him alone, not until we see he's clearer in his head. And until we convince ourselves he's not going to do something stupid."

"It wasn't your fault, Ed," Emily reassured him. "I didn't even think he'd be able to get up. I might have put some restraints on him if I had thought of it, knowing him and his ridiculous aversion against hospitals." She shrugged. "Maybe we should be happy that he actually tried and he's still his old stubborn self."

Baxter huffed. "Yah, right. Happy that he almost killed himself by doing so. Always look on the bright side, ey?"

"What else can we do, if not that, Ed?" She smiled at him and patted his shoulder. His lips curled up and he nodded. She got up and raked her fingers through her hair.

"I can stay until he wakes up. I have a lot of paperwork to catch up with anyway. Can't wait to tell my boss about what just happened. He's going to have a stroke over the idea that Alec will sue the hospital," she sighed and stood up.

Baxter chuckled. "Now that would be fun. If you need a witness to attest to how unreasonable and stubborn your patient is, you know where to find me." He got up as well. "Seriously though, I wouldn't be worried. Alec has an unhealthy tendency to blame himself for anything that goes wrong around him," Baxter added sarcastically. He stared at the floor, thoughts wandering to the lost evidence and how Hardy's wife had literally fucked up all the work her husband had put into the case while he was getting more and more ill by the day. He kicked the chair in his frustration.

"Ed, I know you told me that he found out his wife cheated on him and that was what put him over the edge. But you mentioned something else that is relating to your work. I'm very well aware that you can't tell me, but if you want me to be able to properly address the emotional impact all of this has on him, I need to have as much information as much as I can. I swear I will keep it confidential and nobody but you, he, and I will ever know." She was serious and the concern in her voice was painfully obvious.

Baxter was fighting it for a few heartbeats. And then he gave in. Maybe because he needed to share, maybe because it felt like the right thing to do. "His wife did not only cheat on him. She botched up the case while doing so. Vital evidence was lost and we might not be able to convict the murderer because of it."

"Oh." Emily sat down slowly. She was silent for a few moments. "Do you know why I didn't report Alec's condition to your CMO despite knowing it could kill him to continue working?" she asked quietly.

"Because you knew it would kill him just as much not to finish this case," Baxter replied, voice hollow. Their eyes locked. There wasn't any need for further explanation. They both shared a mutual understanding of Hardy's struggle.

"What a mess," she breathed, covering her mouth with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. "What are we gonna do, Ed?"

He snorted. "I know what you're going to do. You'll make sure his crummy heart is not going to give out on him and that he doesn't do anything stupid." He paused and scratched on a dry spec of Hardy's blood on his trousers. She was right, it was all a big mess. "Not much to do about the other situation. I've been able to keep it quiet for now, but I don't know for how much longer that'll work out. I can't help but think that he's going to come up with some shit plan. He's good at that." The sarcasm in his voice was scathing.

She stood up again. "All right. Divide and conquer. I'll take care of the medical part of his broken heart and you can have the rest to deal with." She looked him in the eye. "Good luck! I'm glad I'm only his doctor and not his friend."

Baxter chuckled. He loved her dry humor. "I don't think this work distribution is entirely fair. Besides, I've got news for you." He tilted his head and continued with his voice sounding all conspiratorial. "He lets you call him Alec. You might be deeper into this than you think, my dear doctor." He winked at her.

"Go home and stop being silly, Ed." She grinned and squeezed his shoulder.

"Fine. Call me when he wakes up. I need to talk some sense into the bloody idiot." He was halfway out the door, when he stopped. "Oh, and tell your husband thank you for stitching him up."

Her head snapped around. She looked surprised. "How did you…?" His broad grin shut her up. "Ach, you're unbelievable," she moaned.

"Precisely Hardy's words." And with that he left her behind the shutting doors of the cardiac ICU.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope people don't think I finally went off the deep end. I wrote the escape attempt a long time ago and debated for weeks now if I should include it or not. It's based on a true story, so maybe you'll forgive me that poor Alec had to go through this. I promise although Alec is in a dark place right now, there is hope (well sort of, we all know it takes him a few years to get better, but still). THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME while I busy myself with poking a million holes in Hardy's soul.

Oh, and I hope my trusty beta will feel better soon. This time all mistakes are truly mine.


	35. CHAPTER 34

**A/N:** For those of you who are still with me... thank you! I promise Alec doesn't do anything stupid in this chapter... well, actually that is in the eye of the beholder – some of us may think he's making the most stupid decision in his life; others may think he's making the bravest.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 34**

Hardy's neck hurt. He tried to reach for it, but his right hand was tied down at the wrist. As was his left.

"Ach, for fuck's sake," he groaned, eyeing the restraints.

He suppressed the rising panic and put effort into refraining from tugging harder. His self-control was disappointingly poor and he found himself pulling desperately to get free. Attempting to sit up was even less successful, and by the time a nurse finally graced him with her presence, he was so furious that all he could do was spit his anger at her.

"What the fuck do you think you moronic people are doing?"

At least that was what he had in mind. What came out of his mouth sounded like some garbled croak of a strangled toad. He coughed and tried again. This time his voice cooperated. The nurse didn't flinch and although he didn't believe he could get more annoyed, the lack of reaction infuriated him more. All she did was raise an eyebrow when she addressed him.

"Mr. Hardy, the moronic people are trying to keep you alive, that's what we're doing. And if you were not as unreasonable as you are, then none of this would be necessary."

"I'm not unreasonable," he protested gruffly.

"And what do you call trying to escape from the ICU and ripping out your central line in the process? Solid planning? A spiteful move to show us all? Or even better... jolly afternoon exploits with DI Hardy, now including such fun activities as chase the patient and prevent patient from bleeding to death?"

The scathing sarcasm in Emily's voice made Hardy cringe. His recollection of the events was at best fuzzy. He squinted down at the right side of his neck. There was a big dressing where the IV line used to be. Tubing was snaking out from underneath the bandages, filled with a thick red liquid.

He remembered the sticky warmth of his own blood on his body and groaned. "Are you giving me a transfusion? I didn't agree to that." His voice cracked again.

"You didn't have to. It was an emergency because you were exsanguinating in front of us. You were lucky the vascular surgeon happened to be here." She was angry and she didn't bother hiding it.

Hardy tried to remember the details, but he couldn't. All that was stuck in his brain was the memory of his urge to run, his blood dripping down and then Baxter's voice calling him back, telling him he wasn't alone.

"Where's Ed?" he whined. His voice trembled only the tiniest bit, but enough to soften Emily's face and tone.

"I sent him home. He was exhausted. He's seen enough for the past couple of days."

It surprised Hardy how protective she sounded. He idly wondered if the two of them had bonded over the burden of caring for him. Guilt riled up inside his stomach. He was an awful friend and patient. His hands moved to scrub over his face but they were held back by the restraints. He winced and a whimper escaped his throat.

"Emily, 'm sorry. I've been such a burden –"

"You're an idiot, Alec, that's what you are, not a burden. You better stop thinking like that right now," she interjected sharply. Then she turned to the nurse. "Would you mind giving us a few moments?"

Hardy wondered why she felt the need to send the nurse away. A suspicion formed in him and he didn't want to think about it. As soon as they were alone she stepped up to his bed.

"Are you going to run again?" Emily wanted to know, frowning down at him.

He shook his head. His body was barely able to move and he had never felt weaker in his whole life. Alone the thought of sitting up exhausted him.

"No, I'm not. I couldn't. And where would I go anyway?" The last words slipped through before he could hold them back.

"Oh Alec," Emily sighed. She loosened up the restraints and sat down on a chair next to his bed. She put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. Hardy rubbed his wrists and didn't look at her. Then he closed his eyes and turned his head away. He was uncomfortable in his skin, embarrassed about what he had done without even fully recalling his escape attempt.

"Why did you try to run away?" she asked, voice soft.

"Don't like the design of the ceiling tiles. They irk me." He was hiding behind sarcasm, but it bounced off of her. She sat there, taking him in with her wide eyes that were filled with kindness. She remained mute, waiting for him to talk. The only thing she did was adjust the oxygen cannula when his few words left him breathless.

Her patient silence unnerved him. "For God's sake," he growled, scrubbing his face down with his hands. He noted the stubble on his chin and wondered how many days had passed since Thursday. His growing agitation made it harder to find the air to talk. "This place is driving me up the walls. The noise, the smell - it was closing in on me and I had to get out, hide..." He had to pause, too short of breath for any further explanation.

She tilted her head. "Do you want to tell me what you're trying to hide from?" she questioned him with an encouraging expression on her face.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he grunted. His chest tightened and he pressed his fist against it.

"Ed shared with me what happened. Everything," Emily said quietly. Hardy's head whipped around and his eyes widened. Deep embarrassment heated up his face. How could he have done that? Now she knew what his wife had done to him, how she had humiliated him, how much of a failure he was.

He wanted to reply but the growing empty feeling inside didn't let him. Frantic gasps replaced words and his eyes flicked around aimlessly.

"Alec, I need you to calm down. Try to breathe. Remember, in and out, slowly." Her voice was soothing and it anchored him. He followed her monotone instructions and the pain in his chest eased up.

Once he felt better, she stood. "We don't have to talk, Alec, if it upsets you this much. I merely wanted to help, but I don't want to –"

"She said, she doesn't love me any more," he interrupted her, voice breaking. He couldn't hold back, it was weighing too heavily on him. "I don't understand. None of this makes sense to me. I've loved her for so long and I still do, but I must have failed her. She said, I don't care about her, but if I don't why does it _hurt_ so much?" His sobs mixed with his gasps for air and the monitor betrayed the stuttering beat of his broken heart.

Emily took his hand and rubbed her thumb over his palm. "I'm so sorry, Alec. I wish I could say something to make you feel better. I spent my whole life studying the human heart. We can do all kinds of tests, look at it with sophisticated technology, but we can never figure out what's really going on inside. I don't have any answers for you. All I can do is try to fix that organ in your chest and give you a chance to heal from this."

Hardy snorted. "For what purpose? My life's gone to shit, no need to try so hard," he spat at her. She didn't deserve his venom, but in his desperation he couldn't help himself. Her cheeks turned pink and she bit down on her lips.

"Alec, please don't be like that," she muttered.

"Seriously? Have you looked at me?" The tide of anger and self-loath washed over him, sweeping him away. "My heart is shit, my marriage is a sham and I fucked up my job. I'm a colossal failure, nothing else." He struggled to take in a deep breath so he could go on with his rant. "I was trying so hard to not let those families down and I failed spectacularly. I wasn't there when I should have been – for nobody. Not for the families of those girls and not for my own family. I banked on the wrong people to take care of things. For God's sake, I _trusted_ her and she..." A shuddering sob shook his body and robbed him of the ability to go on. He buried his face under his trembling fingers, wishing he was still a child that could pretend that when you hid behind your hands, nobody could see you. Vanish and disappear, no more anguish and sorrow.

Emily's arm curled around him and gently tugged him against her side. She stroked his head while she whispered in his ear.

"It wasn't your fault, Alec. You did nothing wrong. You did the best you could and almost killed yourself over this. Your marriage might be over, but you have your daughter. Never forget that. She loves you and you love her, nothing else matters. You'll always be there for her regardless of what life throws at you."

Face buried against Emily's chest, Hardy held on to the image of Daisy lying in her bed reading. Emily was right, he still had her. Regardless of Tess and his destroyed relationship, he would always be there for her. Suddenly, he jerked away from Emily and his eyes widened. The realization that he most likely wouldn't even be able to do that hit him so hard that his feeble heart couldn't cope. He groaned, clutched his chest and passed out before the monitor could warn Emily of the impending attack.

* * *

Grey light filtered through the blinds of the window. Hardy blinked into the fading rays of the sun. It was quiet in the room with the exception of the muted sounds of the monitor. He listened to the monotonous beeps of his faulty heart, ticking away the precious moments he had left. His mind was clearer now and so was what lay ahead of him. He didn't need Emily to tell him what his chances of survival were after his second cardiac arrest within less than a month. His body told him everything.

What had been fatigue and exhaustion before, was now utter prostration and a weariness that went through and through. Every move seemed tiring and he was so weak. After learning how poor his prognosis was on Thursday, he'd felt like that for the first time. It had been more emotional than physical, but now his body was beaten and he had no reserve to bounce back. The things that had kept him going then had crumbled with a few words uttered by his wife. That day, she hadn't only lost the key evidence, she'd lost his life with it. His work was destroyed, his health gone and his family in pieces.

He was alone, but Daisy would be lonelier once he would be gone. His heart ached with the thought of his daughter losing her father. He found the smallest comfort in the knowledge that Daisy needed her mother now more than ever. Tess had been right, she was better suited to take care of their daughter. Not lost in work or impaired by illness, but present in Daisy's life. He couldn't do much for her, not any more. And when the time would come, at least Daisy would have Tess who she loved dearly. Not like him, when his mother had died and he was left behind with a father who he could never forgive for looking away and dismissing his mother's depression.

He slowly lifted his hand to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. The scruff on his chin reminded him again that several days must have passed. He had begged Tess not to talk to Daisy but that was before his heart had stopped and he ended up in this godforsaken place. She must have told Daisy something by now why her father had not come home. He hated the idea that he didn't have the chance to explain himself to hopefully soften the blow of his illness and her mother's actions.

 _Her mother's actions_ – the words lingered in his fatigued mind. He idly mulled them over until his half-closed eyes snapped open with the sudden certainty that Daisy would never forgive her mother for the affair. Especially not, if she found out about the fall out for the murder case and how poorly he had taken the news. She'd be left with a parent she hated, just like he had been. The sorrow that came with the realization threatened to take his breath away. Stricken with grief over what would happen to his child, he wished for nothing more than to be able to change the course of things.

He was losing his addled mind over the fact that he couldn't save her from the same fate as him. And then in a fleeting moment of clarity, things fell into place. His thoughts were clear as the first rays of sun across the cloudy sky after a rain storm. He was wrong, there was something he could do for her, even beyond his grave. Daisy must never find out what her mother had done. There was only one way for Tess to keep her secret. Only one way for her to come out of this unscathed. He had to take the fall for what happened with the pendant.

The sun had set and the light was gone from the room. Tension fell away from his battered body and he melted into his pillow, laying his head to rest. His eyelids fluttered shut and he exhaled, listening to his slow heartbeat again. It was lulling him to sleep, his mind at peace with the decision he had made to protect the only thing in his life that hadn't been tainted by this waking nightmare his existence had become.

* * *

A loud snore woke Hardy. His eyes popped open and he blinked into the dark until he found the source of the nightly disturbance. Baxter was sacked out on a chair next to his bed. To be precise, his head was resting on the mattress, one hand loosely cupping Hardy's, the other dangling down at an odd angle underneath his body. His mouth was slightly open and his chest rose and fell with his deep breaths. His face was bathed in the green lights of the IV pumps. A blanket was halfway sliding down his shoulders.

Hardy's lips curled up at the sight of his friend. It touched him that Baxter would not leave his side, despite the sneaking suspicion that he was also here to make sure Hardy wouldn't run again. Hardy debated if he should wake him and send him home, but the fear of being alone in the hospital claimed a selfish victory. Groaning, he propped himself up and pulled the blanket over Baxter's body. Why did it always have to be so bloody frigid in hospitals? He fell back heavily onto his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut. His fingers curled around Baxter's, savoring the warm touch which helped him feel less lonely.

He was sliding into a slumber when another deep snore startled him. His heart jumped uncomfortably in his chest but quieted down quickly. Hardy sighed. Listening to Baxter's valiant attempts of sawing down a whole forest in his hospital room wasn't very conducive to sleeping. He might have to wake him up after all.

"Ed," he growled with no reaction. He frowned. Baxter apparently was a deep sleeper.

"Ed, wake up," he said, louder this time, tugging on Baxter's hand. Baxter groaned and his eyes slowly opened. As soon as he spotted Hardy awake, he sat up quickly, shaking his head.

"Alec, are you okay? Why are you up? Do you need something?" he babbled sleepily.

"'M fine. And I'd be sleeping if it wasn't for your snoring," Hardy grumbled.

Baxter looked at him with wide eyes. There was a flicker of annoyance playing over his face that he quickly suppressed. Hardy felt bad that he hadn't been nicer to his friend who spent the night in a chair instead of his own bed.

"I'm sorry, Al-" Baxter began.

"No, Ed. _I_ am sorry," Hardy cut him off. "You don't have to apologize. Shouldn't have been this grouchy. Thank you for staying with me..." – he struggled with the words – "... for not leaving me alone."

Baxter smiled. "You're welcome, Alec. Emma used to complain about the same thing." Baxter fell silent, staring off into space for a moment until he came back to present time. Hardy felt a pang of guilt that he had dragged Baxter into this, considering how hard it must be for him to be back in this hospital. And as much as he didn't want to be by himself, he felt the stronger need to make sure his friend was all right.

"You know, you don't have to stay. You should go home and sleep in your own bed. Be with your wife –" Hardy suddenly choked up, strangled by his own new reality of not having anyone to share his life with. He gagged and cupped his mouth with his hand, eyes stinging with tears.

Baxter took in a deep breath and handed him a small metal basin in case he had to throw up. "I'm here, Alec. Not going anywhere," Baxter soothed him, gently tucking the hair out of his face. "You shouldn't be alone right now," he added firmly, not leaving any room for discussion.

Hardy found his gaze and mumbled a "thanks". His stomach and heart calmed down after a while. He tried to go back to sleep, but it wouldn't come. Baxter slouched in the chair, resting his head against the wall and eyes closed. Hardy chewed on his lips. The middle of the night was probably not the best time to discuss his plan of taking the blame for the loss of the pendant. But then there was probably never a good time to try and convince his friend and boss to go along with his idea. He might as well get it over with.

"Ed, can I talk to you about something?" he asked sheepishly, rubbing his tongue over his teeth.

"Hm, sure," Baxter muttered, voice rough with sleep.

"It's about the case..." He watched Baxter opening his eyes and shooting him a quizzical look. "I'm going to take the full responsibility for the loss of the pendant," he stated as firmly as he could.

Baxter eyes snapped open fully and he sat up straight. "Excuse me?" he exclaimed flabbergasted.

Hardy squirmed in his bed. This wasn't going to be easy. "I said, I will take full responsibility for what happened with the pendant," he repeated with less conviction in his voice than he would have liked.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? That's the dumbest idea that you've ever had," Baxter cried out.

"No, it's not," Hardy retorted meekly. He was getting ready to make his argument as soon as Baxter would get through the initial shock.

Baxter stood up abruptly and turned on the lights. Hardy blinked away the blinding glare in his eyes, and when he could see again, Baxter's face was right in front of him, scrutinizing his every move.

"You're serious about this. I can't believe it," Baxter stated incredulously. "Why on earth would you even think about such a stupid thing?" Anger was creeping into Baxter's voice.

"It happened under my watch," Hardy answered, very well knowing that Baxter would throw this out the window quickly. His heart had picked up pace and Hardy made a desperate wish that it would last him through this conversation.

"Bullshit. It happened under no one's watch. Which is exactly the problem." Baxter's reply didn't make sense to Hardy, but he couldn't pay much attention to it.

"Ed, it's the best solution, I thought about it," Hardy pressed on.

"Did you? Then think again, because whatever you've concocted in your fried brain isn't very solid," Baxter spat back at him.

"Please, let me explain," he pleaded, putting his palm flat on the mattress. There was an uncomfortable twinge in his chest and he winced.

Baxter didn't hesitate and reached for the call button. Hardy swiftly grabbed his wrist. They glared at each other and Hardy suddenly remembered doing the same thing in Baxter's office that morning after his world had changed forever. He loosened his grip, self-consciously aware of how tight he'd been holding him.

"I'm sorry, Ed," he mumbled.

Baxter huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. His face was flushed and he wore a deep frown on his forehead. "I'm going to give you two minutes to explain yourself. If your monitor even so much as flickers I'm getting the nurse."

Hardy took in a deep breath. "If I take the responsibility, we can keep Tess out of –"

"No. Absolutely not. I'm not willing to protect her because you have some misplaced feelings for that woman," Baxter spat out, cutting Hardy off vehemently. Baxter continued to shake his head, emphasizing his firm no.

"Please, Ed. That's not what this is about." He closed his eyes to rid himself of Tess' words echoing in his mind. There was another uncomfortable fluttering in his chest and the monitor alarmed.

"That's it. You're done. I'm not watching you have another attack," Baxter exclaimed and hit the call the button. He didn't need to. Hardy's nurse and a familiar looking young doctor barged into the room.

"Oh, hi there, Mr. Hardy. Remember me? Met you in A&E a few weeks ago. Fancy seeing you here again," the young doctor greeted Hardy in an annoyingly cheery voice.

Hardy groaned. The name had slipped his mind, but he recalled the horrific bedside manners and the pleasure he'd had frightening the shit out of this incompetent moron. "Where's Emily?" he growled.

"Dr. Abbott? I hope she's at home in bed sleeping. Something you should be doing as well," the young doctor answered. He had the nerve to wag a scolding finger at Hardy's face. Out of the corner of his eye, Hardy caught Baxter's grin. The doctor pulled a syringe out of his coffee stained coat pocket. He flicked it and with a smile started injecting it into one of the many IV lines.

"What is that?" Hardy asked anxiously.

"It's going to help you get some shut-eye," the doctor explained with a syrupy smile.

"Shut-eye? You can't do that," Hardy cried out, pitch shifted up. He tried to move away, but his broken ribs prevented him from doing so. It was too late anyway. He could already feel the effect of the sedative, his mind fogging up.

"No. I need to talk... to... need to talk to Ed...," he stammered, words getting harder to control. He hated the feeling of loss of control that came with the medication.

"It's all right, Alec. Go to sleep. Relax." Baxter's soothing voice faded away together with his consciousness. His last thought was with his daughter, the urge to protect her burning hotter than ever in him.

* * *

 **A/N:** The question WHY Alec took the fall for the loss of the pendant had been vexing me ever since I saw that heart breaking scene in S01x07 when he confesses the truth to the journalists. We heard him say, he didn't want his daughter to know about her mother. But why would he want her to think it was him who had an affair instead? Why would he protect his adulterous wife who had lost everything? This question has been in my head for a long time and was a central part for me when I embarked on telling this story. I hope that my take on the explanation makes sense and that it also makes sense how this version of Alec arrived at that decision; why he'd think Tess needs to be protected in order to save Daisy from a dreadful future.

Now how Alec will actually make it happen, that's a different question and you'll see soon what he comes up with.

And lastly, on a completely different note – I am excited to announce that this moment when we read about Alec's decision was the moment I have been waiting for in order to continue "The Ocean Breathes Salty". So, after basically forever, it will happen – you'll finally find out if Alec ever gets that hug or not (P.S. If you're thinking about re-reading OBS, I'd suggest you may wait until I post the chapter, I have to make some slight revisions to match up a few things – the characters have taken things in their own hands while I was busy writing angsty stories about Sandbrook)


	36. CHAPTER 35

**A/N:** Happy New Year everyone! Sorry for the delay, but as you might now I got a wee bit sidetracked by other parts of this saga (and also by this pesky AU story idea to my own AU... writer's ADHD has struck again *sighs*). All mistakes are mine this time around as my trusty beta hazelmist has gone to see the world (and some palm trees). Alec's coming up with a shit plan...

* * *

 **CHAPTER 35**

"It's my decision, Ed," Hardy shouted at his friend. He had been sitting up in his bed, pretending to nibble on the mushy hospital food they had brought him for breakfast, but now fell back onto his pillow, catching his breath. The monitor started alarming and Hardy's face turned grey, furrows of pain deepening his permanent scowl. He rubbed his chest, sucking in some air. A nurse came in, took his pulse, adjusted his IV drips and placed the oxygen cannula back in his nose. He had stubbornly taken it off twice already since Baxter had walked into the room this morning.

"Mr. Hardy, would you leave that in, please. We've told you before." She sounded exasperated and Baxter didn't blame her. Hardy rolled his eyes at her, mumbling something about it being uncomfortable.

"I know, but having pain in your chest I bet is more uncomfortable. Right?" Her expression was not without sympathy when she put a hand on Hardy's shoulder. To underscore her remark, Hardy's face scrunched up and he couldn't hold back a moan. Her eyes flicked to the monitor and there was the briefest moment of concern in them before she could hide it.

Baxter's gaze didn't leave the green crawling line of Hardy's erratic heartbeat. Hardy hadn't required any shocks since the day prior when his insane escape plan had resulted in quite literally a blood bath. But he had passed out a few times due to his ever slowing heart rate. How was he supposed to talk sense into him if every time Hardy got upset their conversation was interrupted by the alarms going off? He tried ignoring the fact that this only showed how ill his friend truly was.

Once the nurse had left, Hardy didn't waste any time to pluck the oxygen off his face. Baxter sighed, leaned forward and put it back. Hardy weakly swatted at his hand and after a short but vigorous kerfuffle between the two of them, the cannula and Hardy's face, Baxter resolutely held down Hardy's hand, put the cannula in Hardy's nose and barked at him, "I'm only continuing this conversation if you're leaving the oxygen where it's supposed to be."

Hardy huffed and looked away. He closed his eyes and took in a few more deep breaths. Baxter had only been in the room for the better part of half an hour and Hardy already looked more exhausted than before. If that was possible at all. Ever since they had taken out the breathing tube the day prior, he had been in and out of sleep. Finally, a day later, he was fully awake. Baxter had been surprised that he had turned around so fast, considering he sort of died not even forty-eight hours ago.

And although he still looked like shit, Hardy apparently was well enough to have come up with an utterly hair-brained plan how to deal with the loss of the pendant. That's what they had been arguing over last night and promptly continued to do so with the fresh new morning.

"I'm not going to agree that you take the blame for something you clearly have no part in. It's going to ruin your career, Alec," Baxter repeated his earlier words.

"What career, Ed?" Hardy spat at him. "If I actually make it through this, I'm finished in the force. You know that just as well as I do."

Baxter couldn't look at him. After his conversation with Emily Abbott yesterday, where she clearly indicated that Hardy wouldn't be able to return to CID any time soon, he couldn't argue with him.

"Alec, even if field work might not be suited for a while, that doesn't mean you can't have a meaningful position within the police department. And once you've got the pacemaker –"

"I'm not going to get it," Alec interrupted him, voice frighteningly calm. "Emily told me after the cath that the pacemaker insertion would be extremely high risk and that contrary to most other patients there is a high likelihood I would suffer a fatal attack during the procedure. That is, if I survive until then. She gave me about twenty to thirty percent survival rate. And I'm sure that after this..." - he waved vaguely at the drips and monitor, struggling to breathe - "...my chances can't be better."

Baxter stared at him. He didn't know that part of the story. No wonder that Hardy had been so tight-lipped when he had brought him home that day. He pulled himself together. He needed to be strong for his friend and not dwell on his own feelings of desperation about how dire Hardy's situation was.

"That doesn't justify to martyr yourself for what these two did. Tess and Dave should pay for their mistake," Baxter insisted.

Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose and fidgeted with the bothersome cannula. He very quietly made his next point. "Daisy needs someone who can support her. If both her parents are out of a job, what's going to happen to her? I don't give a fuck about Dave and I'm sure you can find a way to discipline Tess - demoted her, send her to another division, whatever - but she _must not_ lose her livelihood." He was pleading now.

"Don't be ridiculous. Even if you're invalided out, you still have your pension to help support Daisy."

"Not when I'm dead," Hardy replied with a quiver in his voice, looking out the window.

Baxter's mouth gaped open. He hadn't expected that. Or maybe he should have, considering what Emily had revealed about Hardy's state of mind when he was waking up.

Hardy hadn't finished yet and he continued tonelessly, "Daisy can never find out what her mother did. When I die, she mustn't be left behind with her mother whom she hates because she cheated on me. That cannot happen." He turned to face Baxter. His eyes were dark and feral, burning with determination.

"I'm willing to do _anything_ to assure that Daisy will be cared for, emotionally and materially. If I have to take the fall for the loss of the pendant, so be it. I'm not going to be around much longer, so what difference does it make?" He found Baxter gaze and bore into it. "Will you help me with that? As a friend? Please?" The desperation in his voice was heartbreaking.

Baxter was taken aback by Hardy's conviction that he was going to die soon. He hadn't said, if he died, no, he had said when. Baxter opened his mouth to set Hardy's head straight, but then his eyes fell on his friend. And for the first time since Baxter had dragged him to the hospital, he allowed himself to _really_ look at him and the whole bloody mess they were in.

Hardy was lying in his bed, challenged by as simple a task as having a conversation. His gaunt and ashen face emphasized his exhaustion. His skinny hands that were bonier than ever fisted the sheet when he tried to hide the pain in his chest. His heart at this point was one beat away from giving out forever and his chances to make it to the pacemaker surgery and survive the procedure were slim. He was plagued by horrific nightmares and sleepless nights, and now utterly broken by his wife's wrongdoing. He was a shadow of his former self after having died on Friday morning and if Baxter was any judge, he had wanted to.

He could see why Hardy would feel compelled to make sure his daughter wasn't left with her life shattered by her mother's wrong doing in the event that he should die. What Hardy didn't take into consideration was that Daisy's world would fall apart simply due to the fact that her father would be gone. And what would happen, if he actually made it?

Baxter dragged his hands down his face. "Alec, do you truly believe you're going to die?" he asked softly. A single nod was the only reply. His throat choked up and tears were stinging his eyes.

Hardy propped himself up, reaching for Baxter's hand. His palms were clammy and his cold fingers tightened around Baxter's, leaving Baxter with the eerie association of a dead man's grasp.

Hardy took in a shuddering breath. "I don't know if I can go on like this, Ed. I left something of me behind that day I almost drowned in that river. I thought I could get it back, by solving the case, by being with my family, but now... what's left for me to fight for?" Tears were welled up in his dark eyes.

Baxter squeezed his hand. "Daisy is not gone, Alec. She is still with you and she cares about you. I care about you. Emily Abbott does and so does your friend Duncan. You can't give up, you're not alone in this." It was Baxter's turn to plead.

Hardy closed his eyes. Barely audible he said, "Daisy needs her mother now that she's getting older. She's turning away from me and Tess is the better parent for her."

"Ach, for God's sake, seriously?" Baxter was getting angry. "I told you not to listen to that horseshit Tess was telling you. Clearly she had her own motives."

They looked at each other, both knowing that there was truth to either sides. Hardy tried to sit up more and Baxter supported his effort. He seemed to sway a little, maybe feeling lightheaded from the change in position. Baxter's gaze wandered over to the monitor. His friend's heart rate had slowed down significantly and sure enough, Hardy's eyes glazed over and his body went limp in Baxter's arms. He lowered him back on his pillow and was about to hit the call button when Hardy spoke.

"I can't do this on my own, Ed. I really need your help," he begged breathlessly. "Please, I thought about it. It's the best solution. Daisy will not find out what her mother did, Tess will be able to take care of her and as for me…" He passed out before he could even finish his sentence. The alarms went off again and people rushed into the room.

Shaken by the conversation and its abrupt end, Baxter watched the medical team attend to his friend from the corner of the room. Maybe Hardy was right and it was the best solution besides the truth. Or maybe Baxter couldn't help himself but to fulfill what could well be the dying wish of his friend.

* * *

Baxter had to step out of the room. Watching yet again how Hardy's frail heart needed to be reminded of doing its job properly was eating away on him. His swift pace took him outside and to the small park across the hospital and police station. He had spent countless hours there while Emma had been ill and soon enough he found his usual hiding spot.

He plopped down onto the bench and leaned his head back against the old oak tree. The musty smell and the rough feeling of the bark underneath his skin was grounding him, like it had so many times before. His racing thoughts slowed down and he finally felt like he could step back from all the emotional turmoil.

He couldn't in all good conscience agree to Hardy's plan. It was insane, born from the frazzled mind of a person who had been pushed to his limits. But still, there was this nagging voice inside him that could see where Hardy was coming from. If he were certain he was dying, all he'd wanted was to make sure that his loved ones were taken care of. Hardy's world all of a sudden had been reduced to a single focus, his daughter who he was extremely devoted to. Of course he'd do anything to assure her well-being, even if that meant to protect the very person who was at the core of this horror show.

Baxter shivered in the cool morning air. The sun wasn't strong enough to penetrate through the thick green leaves of the oak tree. Baxter tugged his coat tighter around him. It was late spring and the world around him was blossoming and bursting out in colors. But all Baxter could see was Hardy's grey face, gaunt and pained. He wanted to help him, to make things at least the tiniest bit more bearable for his ailing friend.

What if he for one moment entertained the thought of Hardy taking the blame? Baxter shook his head. It was impossible. People knew that Tess and Thompson had taken the pendant with them. The SOCO team and Swenson wouldn't just idly stand by and help propagating such an outlandish lie. Especially as they were well aware of _why_ the evidence had been left unattended. And they respected Hardy. There was also no way that Liz MacMillan would go along with this shit plan. She never had as much as one scandal in her whole career and she wouldn't start now because two of her sergeants couldn't keep their hands off each other. It couldn't work.

Baxter groaned and kicked at a pebble in front of him. Something buzzed in his coat pocket, interrupting his brooding. He was confused as it couldn't be his phone which he was holding in his fidgety hands. He put his mobile down and patted down his body until he found what he was looking for. It was Hardy's. He forgot he'd taken it when they handed him his belongings.

He peeked at the caller ID. Duncan, no last name. Hardy's oldest friend. Baxter realized that there were several missed calls and text messages on Hardy's phone. He didn't know the unlock code, so when Duncan rang again, he answered without a second thought.

"Hello?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a booming Scottish voice spoke. "You're not Alec Hardy. You greet people in a civil manner."

Baxter grinned. This might be more entertaining than he could have hoped for. "I've been house-broken. Not like Hardy, he's still feral."

There was a huff on the other side. "Ha. Good one." Then a brief pause. "Who are you, why do you have Alec's phone and most importantly where is he?" The tone of voice had changed, concern emphasizing the Scottish accent.

So much for the entertainment. Maybe that list-of-questions habit was a Scottish thing. Baxter let out a deep breath. "I'm Ed Baxter, Hardy's boss. And you're Duncan, his best friend," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Aye. So, where is he?" Duncan persevered without wasting time for further greetings.

Baxter had always hated having to deliver bad news to people. It hadn't changed since he was a young police officer. He leaned forward on the bench, running his hand through his hair.

"Duncan...," he started hesitantly, struggling to find the right words.

"Did something happen during the procedure?" Duncan's anxiety was ringing in his ears.

"No. Not really. Besides the fact that they couldn't place the pacemaker," Baxter sighed into the phone.

"What? Why not?" Duncan asked, agitation becoming more evident.

"He was too ill. They couldn't do it," Baxter explained, stalling what he knew was the real news.

"Bloody hell," Duncan hissed. And after a couple of heartbeats, he added, "That doesn't explain why you have his phone though."

Smart man, Baxter thought. He had beaten around the bush long enough. Dragging it out wasn't going to make it easier.

"Alec is in hospital. He suffered a cardiac arrest on Friday morning. He was gone for almost five minutes before they brought him back. He's awake now and doing slightly better, but he's not well."

The silence on the other end was deafening.

"Why didn't anybody call me? And why do _you_ have his phone and not Tess? What the fuck is going on?" Duncan eventually yelled into the phone. He sounded hurt.

Baxter contemplated his answer carefully. As far as he was aware, Hardy and Duncan were very close, having been best friends since they were boys. Considering how secretive Hardy had been about his heart condition, Baxter wondered how much Duncan knew. He obviously was privy to the cath procedure and aware that there were risks associated with it. Baxter thought about the fact how much Hardy needed support in his life at this very moment.

"Duncan, do you think you could come to Sandbrook? Alec could use a friend. He found out that Tess is having an affair and –"

"What?"

Baxter would have expected an outcry of indignation, but the quiet word carried more outrage in it than any loud proclamation of anger could have had.

He inhaled deeply and continued with his tale. "Tess is apparently having an affair with one of her colleagues. She picked the opportune moment of the evening after the cath procedure to tell Alec. He wasn't in the best shape to say the least and it was too much for his heart to handle. I found him collapsed in my office the next morning and took him to the hospital."

Duncan's sharp breaths quickened. Baxter had never met Duncan, but it didn't take much imagination to picture the furious face on the other end of the phone.

"Go on," Duncan demanded roughly, Scottish accent reminding Baxter way too much of Hardy.

"Ever since his heart stopped..." – there was a chocked back cry crackling through the speaker – "... he's had multiple episodes where he either needed to be shocked or resuscitated otherwise. He's in the cardiac ICU and it doesn't look like he's going to leave there any time soon," Baxter explained.

Duncan cleared his throat. "I can't come today. My wife's out of town and I've got the kids. But I'll try to get there by tomorrow, no later than Tuesday."

Baxter hummed in acknowledgement, contemplating if he should enlist Duncan in dissuading Hardy from his insane plan.

"Ed, what are you not telling me?" Duncan questioned, shaming every detective with his perceptiveness.

Baxter leaned back against the oak tree again. The rough bark scraped against his scalp, giving him a sense of grounding while the earth seemed to slip away from under him.

"Why did you find Alec in your office? Shouldn't he have been home the morning after the cath?" Baxter had to give it to Duncan, he asked the right questions. He made a decision and hoped he wouldn't regret it someday.

"Duncan, what I'm going to reveal to you now needs to stay between us and Alec. Can you promise me that?"

"Aye." One word spoken with conviction. Baxter was satisfied.

"Tess called Alec to the station to tell him that a piece of key evidence was stolen while she was having sex with her colleague." Baxter stopped to see how Duncan would take this information.

"Fuck," came his response after a long pause.

So far so good. Baxter still had to drop the bomb.

"Duncan, the reason why I think it would be good for you to come here is that somebody needs to talk sense into Alec," Baxter said tiredly.

"Why? Does he want to break out of the ICU and beat the shit out of the arsehole who's shagging his wife? I don't think that's so unreasonable. I might help him," Duncan ranted, sarcasm dripping off of his words.

"I wish that was it," Baxter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Can you not be so fucking cryptic? I'm already losing it over here and you stalling doesn't help," Duncan growled.

"Alec's got a shit plan. He wants to take the blame for the loss of the evidence becau –"

"You can't be serious about this?" Duncan shouted into the phone so loudly that Baxter had to hold the speaker away from his ear. "The bloody, idiotic moron!"

Baxter stared at the mobile in his hand, listening to Duncan spewing out a bunch of colorful Scottish swear words that Baxter had never heard off. It was left to his imagination what they all meant, but the gist of them was clear. Duncan was livid at his friend and that was putting it mildly. When he finally fell silent, Baxter dared to continue his explanation.

"Did you get that out of your system?" Duncan groaned in agreement. "Good, because yelling at him won't do the trick here. He's got it stuck in his thick head that he's going to die and therefore needs to make sure that Daisy will be cared for. He doesn't want her to know what her mother did so that she won't hate her. And he wants to take the blame so that Tess will keep her job and provide for Daisy once he's dead." His words spilled out fast, unloading the burden of sharing Hardy's insane idea.

To his surprise, Duncan was utterly silent.

"Duncan? Are you still there?" Baxter inquired into the seemingly dead line.

"Aye. I'm here. Can I ask you something and please think about it before you answer," Duncan inquired pensively.

"Sure," Baxter replied, suspicious of the question.

" _Is_ he dying?" There was a quiver in Duncan's voice.

Baxter was stupefied by Duncan's words. He couldn't talk around the chocked up sob in his throat.

"I thought so," Duncan said, carrying so much sadness in his tone that Baxter broke inside. "You're a father, Ed. Look at it from Alec's perspective, maybe he's got a point."

Unfortunately, Baxter found himself agreeing with Duncan. In a weird twisted way, Hardy _did_ have a point.

"What if he doesn't die though? What good does it do if Daisy doesn't hate her mother but him? Especially as he didn't do anything," Baxter argued.

"Can't he take the responsibility without being accused of having an affair?" Duncan thought out loud. "Then Daisy could be kept out of it at least as far as that part goes."

Baxter hadn't even considered that. Nobody needed to know about the affair, they'd only needed to come up with a somewhat plausible story how Hardy lost the pendant. That is if the SOCO team and Swenson would keep quiet. Baxter let out an exasperated huff. His head was pounding.

"I'm not sure, Duncan. There are people who _know_ what happened. It's going to be hard to keep it quiet as it is." Baxter paused. A sudden heat hit his stomach at the thought of helping to cover up what Tess did. "I can't be part of it," he blurted out.

"Ed, I understand, you're his boss and as such you have to uphold a certain integrity –"

"No, you _don't_ understand. You didn't talk to her. She had so much contempt for him and was so self-righteous. She basically killed him with her actions and her disinterest and I can't let her get away with it." His anger was palpable. "I despise her, she doesn't deserve any compassion." It was the truth and he had no reason to hide it.

"Oh, no doubt about that. I'm with you all the way, but Alec is the one that needs our support. If it helps him to cope with this horrible situation to know that Daisy is taken care of, it's worth considering going along with his shit plan. Don't get me wrong, I think it's idiotic, but then all I want is for him to be better. I haven't had any interest in protecting Tess since she hit on me years ago but –"

"She hit on you? You're his best friend, for God's sake," Baxter interrupted in disgust. He had believed he couldn't have thought less of Hardy's wife but he had been wrong. "Didn't Alec tell me she doesn't like you?"

"I guess she didn't take kindly to being rejected. It was a long time ago and Alec knows about it. He loved her too much to give it too much thought. He forgave her as soon as she apologized and said she hadn't meant it." Duncan sounded as disgusted as Baxter felt. He let out a deep sigh. His voice was rough when he continued, "We both know that there is a real chance he might die from this heart condition. I would like to be able to tell myself that I've helped fulfill my oldest friend's last wish. And if it should turn out that it wasn't that, I'd be happy to deal with the fall out, because it'll mean he's still around."

Baxter stared up into the green roof of the oak tree. Flares of light flickered through the thick umbrella of leaves, ever changing with the breeze. He remembered the moment when he received the phone call from Emma's doctor telling him that they'd found a suitable donor for the bone marrow transplant, a procedure that almost killed her and left her debilitated for many months after, but in the end saved her life. He had been sitting underneath this very tree, looking for answers when they were hard to find. Duncan's words sank in. If this was what Hardy needed to do in order to be at peace, then he as his friend should help him. He hoped with all his heart that he would have many more years to come where he could yell at Hardy about his shit plan of taking the fall for his wife in order to protect his daughter.

"I guess we'll have to come up with a good story then," Baxter said slowly, still hesitating, while accepting the path he'd chosen.

Duncan let out a sigh of relief. "It's a moronic thing to do, but at the same time also a very Alec Hardy thing. I've known him since we were kids. He'd always give himself up to save a poor soul. Maybe we can save his this time?" Duncan suggested, voice soft.

"I hope you're right," Baxter mumbled.

"Will you tell him that I'll be there tomorrow?"

"Of course. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

"Possibly. We usually squabble, but it's amicable," Duncan sniggered.

"All right then. I'll keep you in the loop," Baxter promised. They exchanged numbers before hanging up. Baxter took in a long breath, looking up into the tree. Then he exhaled slowly, raised to his full height and began his way back to help his friend in need.

* * *

"What the hell have you guys been arguing about?"

Emily's angry voice made Baxter jump while he was signing the visitor sheet at the ICU's reception counter. Baxter finished his signature, dated and timed the list meticulously to buy himself time. When he turned around, he was greeted by a scowling Emily. Her dark eyes were furious and boring into him. With crossed arms she leaned against the counter, waiting for an answer.

"Can we not talk about this in the hallway, please?" Baxter snagged her elbow and pulled her towards the family room. She followed reluctantly, face still angry.

As soon as the door closed, she started talking again.

"How can you upset him like that? I told you to go easy on him, and then you have nothing better to do than –"

"Listen to me Emily," he interrupted her rant. "It's not my fault. Alec has come up with an insane plan how to deal with the loss of the evidence and I was trying to convince him otherwise." He breathed deeply before going on, "He wants to take the blame to protect his daughter from the fall out."

Emily frowned. "How does that make any sense? And what does Daisy have to do with the case?"

"He's convinced he's dying and doesn't want Daisy to be left behind with a mother she hates and who can't care for her because she lost her job."

Her eyes widened and she inhaled as if she was going to speak, but then held her breath instead. She cocked her head and pulled the corners of her mouth down. Eventually, she said. "I hate to admit it, but that _does_ sort of make sense. If you believe he's dying."

"Is he?" Baxter retorted, sharper than he had intended to.

Emily's face was answer enough, but Baxter needed to hear it.

"Is he?" he asked, louder this time.

She still didn't respond.

Baxter started pacing through the small room. He came to a sudden halt, invading her personal space.

"Because if he isn't, I won't go along with this insanity," Baxter hissed into her face. She didn't deserve his anger, but he was too high strung to endure any games. He needed answers to make an impossible decision.

"Ed, we never can say for sure," she began with a soft tone. His hope flared up for the one split second, but when she continued, he already knew how this conversation would go because he'd been in it before. "However, if we really look at the situation and what happened, his chances of surviving are probably less than ten percent. He could be lucky and with good care and rest recover enough to make it to the surgery. There is always that possibility, but for all practical purposes it's not wrong to say, he's dying."

Baxter's tall figure crumpled in on itself and he dropped down onto the closest chair. He had known the answer all along, but hearing it from her made it real.

"Ed, he can make it, not all is lost. If we assure that he takes care of hims–"

"Are you listening to what you're saying? Have you met this man? He's shit at taking care of himself, that's one of the reasons why we are faced with this situation to begin with. If he hadn't been so stubborn, he wouldn't be lying over there and try to die on me every time I'm talking to him. This bloody stupid, stupid…" Whatever else he had wanted to say was suffocated by his angry tears. He was furious at Hardy, his self-neglect, and his delay in dealing with his heart before it was too late. And at the same time, the grief of losing a friend was overwhelming and it got the better of him.

"I would never presume that I know what you're going through as I'm not in your shoes, but you're not on your own in this," Emily said gently, diffusing his anger. "I'm mad at him too, but now is not the time to yell at him. Now is the time to show him that he's not alone and that there are people out there who care about him. He lost everything that is important in his life - his wife, his health, his job - and the only thing he has left is his daughter. At least in his eyes, even if there is more out there. He can't see that right now, but hopefully soon he will. We need to get him through this until he gets back on his feet. And if we can do that, he has a real chance of living and not only dying."

Baxter looked up into her optimistic eyes and took in her sincere smile. She meant it and that was all he needed to hear to go on.

Her smile turned into a mischievous grin, when she said, "I bet you a hundred quid that he's going to try and leave against medical advice by no later than Wednesday."

Baxter huffed. "I say Tuesday. He was already complaining about the food earlier. He's going to be out of here as soon as his skinny legs will carry him."

"As long as he's not going to exsanguinate himself again, I'll take it," she said with a pained undertone.

Baxter groaned and got up. The image of Hardy lying in his own blood turned his stomach. "I'll better check on him before he gets any ideas."

"I'll come with you. I've got something I want to try and see if that helps to speed up his bum ticker. Your brother suggested it," she added with a smirk.

"Marty?" Baxter asked in surprise.

"Yup. He called me last night, wondering about where his baby brother has been all this time. Said you were supposed to meet him for dinner, but you weren't answering your phone. He had a hunch your absence might be related to a certain Scot," she explained, still smirking.

"Is there no privacy here?" Baxter moaned.

Emily's amused chuckle echoed through the hallway. "You're spending too much time with Alec, he's rubbing off on you."

"Seriously?" Baxter asked in a mock Scottish accent and when she sputtered with laughter he joined her, feeling lighter than he had in days.

* * *

Force of habit made Emily scan the room quickly when she walked in. Her eyes wandered from Hardy's face to the monitor, the IV pumps and back to her patient. Before she could stop herself, she reached for his wrist and felt for his pulse. It wasn't really necessary considering that his heart currently was under more scrutiny than the Royal Family. She liked the human touch though, reassuring her that she was treating a person and not only numbers.

Hardy's eyes fluttered open, sluggishly following her movements. It was hard to believe that his grey color and only slightly labored breathing were an improvement compared to two days ago.

"Good morning," she said, smiling.

He grunted and cursed when his broken ribs prevented him from rolling onto his side. He spotted Baxter who had stayed back at the door and his eyes narrowed. Emily wasn't happy with their earlier argument and the fact that it had put Hardy over the edge again, but at least this time he had skirted by without needing to be shocked. Maybe the cocktail of medication she'd been throwing at him finally started to take effect.

"So, I hear you have a shit plan to martyr yourself," Emily stated, not attempting any small talk.

"Oh, _fun-bloody-tastic_. You told her about it. Have you put it in the paper yet?" Hardy threw at Baxter who was still hiding behind her.

"She yelled at me for picking a fight with you." Baxter pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. Emily's eyes flicked back and forth between the two and she shook her head.

"Ey, don't drag me into this. You should spend your energy on coming up with a good story instead of wasting your breath on arguing," she admonished them.

Hardy's eyes grew wide when it sank in what she'd said. Then he closed them and buried his face behind his palms. His "Thank you" was barely audible.

Baxter snorted. "Don't thank me. I'm doing this against my better judgement." There was a deep frown etched onto his forehead. It didn't take a skilled observer to see the conflicting feelings in Baxter's haunted eyes.

Hardy dragged his thin fingers down his face and scratched his scruff. He rubbed his tongue over his teeth. "What day is today?" he queried, sounding lost.

"Sunday," Emily answered, prepared for Hardy's shocked expression that followed the moment of confusion. She'd seen it many times when patients regrouped after a cardiac arrest, but it was still hard to see it on him.

"Sunday? But that's three days...," he trailed off, grappling with the realization of how fleeting time was. His effort of trying to pull himself together was valiant. She felt for him. He fidgeted with the oxygen cannula, plucking it off his nose. Baxter was at his side in no time, slapping Hardy's fingers.

"Leave it be!" he chastised him like a child.

"I hate it," Hardy whined, hand sneaking up again only to be stopped by Baxter's raised index finger and eyebrow.

Emily bit down on her lip to avoid laughing at them. "Do you behave like that at work?" she wondered out loud. That earned her a twin sheepish stare from both men and she grinned. They both sighed and Baxter fell heavily onto the foot of Hardy's bed.

"Alec, we have to talk about this. How on earth do you think you can take the blame for it? You weren't even around when they searched the car. There were other people involved besides Tess and Thompson," Baxter said, sharing his thoughts.

Hardy had turned his head towards the window when Baxter mentioned his wife and the other man. He seemed far away and Emily's trained eye caught onto the subtle changes on the monitor that made her worry. His rhythm was steady for now, but she feared where this conversation was going.

When Hardy came back from wherever he'd gone, there was determination burning in his eyes.

"Did you talk to the chief?" he wanted to know.

Baxter nodded. "I had to, Alec. She was livid. You know how she gets about things like this," he ended meekly.

"This?" Hardy echoed angrily. "What's that supposed to mean – this? Like her SIO screwing up because he's got a bum heart and needed to keep it a secret? Or... or like the two senior officers having a field day instead of supervising the search of a potential crime scene? Or... or like two of her detective sergeants not being able to keep it in their pants and literally fucking up the most profiled investigation this constabulary ever had?" Hardy's voice got louder and more agitated with every stammered and breathless sentence he pressed between his gritted teeth. There was a hint of hysteria in there that didn't only make Emily feel uncomfortable but Baxter as well.

Emily's eyes didn't leave the monitor. She didn't like what she saw. "Alec, please calm down," she urged quietly. She reached for him, but decided against touching him as he seemed too tense.

"I'm having a really hard time with that concept right now," Hardy snarled, digging his fingers into his messy hair.

"Listen, Alec. I know how important this if for you. If this is supposed to work out, we have to come up with a good story how all of this happened. If we don't have a solid plan, there's no way in hell we can make MacMillan go along with this. And if you're not able to stay calm, we can't talk," Baxter argued.

He must have found the right words because Hardy's clenched fists uncurled and he let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Good," Baxter said. "I know this is a lot to ask from you right now, but you can't get upset when I share with you what Tess told me when I suspended her."

Hardy's eyes burned a hole into Baxter's head. "You suspended her?" he rasped.

"Her and Thompson," Baxter confirmed. Emily noted Baxter's jaw twitch. It couldn't be easy for him either to keep his anger at bay.

Hardy closed his eyes and grunted, "Go on. Tell me. I wanna know. Everything." His Scottish brogue had been getting rougher throughout this conversation.

"They stopped at the hotel to find some privacy for celebrating their success. Thompson stated they forgot the bag with the evidence in Tess' car because they were distracted." Baxter paused. Hardy's eyes were still closed and he was pressing down on them with his fingers.

"Distracted by what?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Alec, don't..." Baxter's tone was begging not to have to go on.

"By what?" he shouted, following his outburst with a gasp for air. Emily's heart broke seeing him like that.

Baxter's shoulders sagged. "They were snogging." His tone was subdued and he looked like a beaten dog. The dead silence in the room was only interrupted by the stuttering beeping of Hardy's heartbeat and the clicking noises of the IV pumps. Baxter and Emily both jerked when Hardy forcefully hit the side rail of his bed.

"I'm so sorry, Alec," Baxter breathed, voice cracking. Emily had cupped her mouth with her hand, suppressing her own need to cry.

Throughout all of this, Hardy never had opened his eyes and he kept them closed, even when the tears started to well up.

"She destroyed everything and for what? A snog and a shag in a cheap hotel," Hardy said eventually, eerily calm. The bitterness in his words though spoke of how much he was hurt by what his wife had done. He wiped at his face and when he finally opened his eyes they were dull, all spark gone.

Emily was too rattled to speak and a look at Baxter confirmed he wasn't doing much better. He sat at the foot of the bed, staring into space, absentmindedly kneading the mattress.

His tone of voice dead, Hardy started talking, "Tess' car is registered under my name. That makes it easy to claim it was mine for the paperwork. Clearly the two of them took the pendant from the search site. Then they met up with me at the hotel. I wanted to celebrate the team's success with my wife –" Hardy faltered for a heartbeat and then ploughed on, "She left the car for me to drive home in it as I had come by taxi and Thompson took her to the station. I stayed behind, having another drink. The car was broken into and the evidence stolen."

He stopped, panting. His face was paler and he had started sweating with the exhaustion of his long speech. But he wasn't finished yet.

"Them listening to me and not coming to the station directly can explain why you suspended them to begin with," he added, eyelids drooping shut.

"What about you?" Baxter questioned quietly.

Hardy took in a shuddering breath, more and more struggling to talk. "I don't matter," he wheezed.

Hardy didn't see Baxter's angry expression as he was fading away, worn out by the burden he decided to take on.

"No, Alec. You do matter," Baxter insisted. "We have to leave you a way out."

"Why?" Hardy rasped bitterly.

"Because you can survive this, Alec," Emily spoke up for the first time since they had embarked on this sad journey. There was not much she could do besides offering a chance. "Alec was not aware that the evidence was in the car until he found out about the break in. They forgot to tell him." Emily found Baxter's eyes. "Could that work?" she wondered. Baxter nodded. They both looked at Hardy, only to find him staring at the ceiling tiles.

"Alec?" Baxter prompted him

The up and down movement of his head was barely noticeable. Emily was worried how much of a toll this had taken on him. He looked like he'd aged years since they had walked in earlier. Emily caught Baxter's attention and motioned towards the door. Hardy needed to rest. Baxter stood and they were about to leave when Hardy stirred.

"I wanna talk to Tess," he demanded roughly.

"What? No!" Baxter exclaimed angrily. He spun around and glared at Hardy's gaunt figure.

"She's still my wife, Ed," Hardy retorted weakly.

"That's questionable. And the last time she talked to you, she fucking killed you!" Baxter snarled back, face flushed with fury.

"Ed, she didn't know. You can't fault her for that," Hardy argued, breathing ragged.

"Stop defending her. Bad enough that you're going to take the fall for her irresponsible behavior, but I'm not going to stand by and watch her beat you while you're already on the ground," Baxter shouted, bottled up anger spilling over. Emily put a steadying hand on his elbow.

"Ed, don't," she warned him quietly. She didn't look at him, focused on the monitor. It had changed significantly.

"I want to... no, I need to tell her about this myself. She needs to understand why –" Hardy chocked and clawed at his chest. His face contorted in pain and his eyes rolled back in his head. Emily hurried to his bedside and hit the code button. She needed her team here now, before his heart would stop for the third time in as many days.

"Ed, tell him you'll get Tess to see him. Now!" Emily yelled at Baxter while she was clearing his chest to prepare him for another encounter with the defibrillator.

Baxter unfroze and jumped to Hardy's side. "I'm sorry, Alec. Of course you can talk to her. I'll call her as soon as you're better. Listen to me and calm down, please," Baxter begged. He was clutching Hardy's hand, clinging onto it in his panic. Hardy's wild eyes locked with Baxter's and to Emily's great relief, Hardy's heart rhythm didn't deteriorate further. By the time they had brought in the code cart with the defibrillator, Hardy had settled down enough for it to be rendered unnecessary.

Baxter didn't want to let go of Hardy's hand, shaken up by what had happened. Hardy was out cold and Emily was grateful for that. Both men needed a break. She put her hand on Baxter's back.

"It wasn't your fault," she tried to console Baxter.

"If he can't even talk to us, what is she going to do to him then?" Baxter's voice was laced with worry.

"You'll make sure that she knows how to behave around him. No startling, no waking up, no shouting, no picking fights. Tell her to just listen to him, not to argue and certainly not discuss any marriage issues. She's not an idiot. She might have been able to ignore his physical decline before, but she won't now. All she'll need to do is see him like this and she'll follow your instructions," Emily reassured Baxter and brushed her fingers over Hardy's temple.

"I hope so." There was doubt in his reply but also acceptance.

"Let him rest. I gave him a sedative so he'd calm down. He should wake up in a few hours. You can call Tess then."

"Can I stay with him?" His voice trembled.

"Oh Ed, of course you can," she said warmly. "What would he do without you?" She squeezed Baxter's shoulder, glad that Hardy had a friend like the man in front of her.

"Do you really think he can make it through this?" Baxter asked quietly.

"I do. He's survived so far and he's stubbornly clinging onto life. The odds might be against him, but knowing him, he's going to roll his eyes and ignore them," Emily reassured him resolutely.

"Yah. That sounds like him," Baxter sighed, tucking the sheet tighter around Hardy. There was a fondness in his gesture that touched Emily.

"My bet still stands by the way. He'll want to leave by Wednesday," she said with a lighter tone.

Baxter smiled at her and pulled Hardy's hand closer. "They're not cold any more."

Emily returned his smile and nodded. "Told you," she said and finally left the two to themselves.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope Alec's shit plan makes sense... I can't tell you how long I've been trying to come up with a semi-plausible idea for this because to be honest with you if you really think about it, Hardy taking the blame when people most likely know that Tess and Dave took the pendant with them is a bit of a stretch to put it mildly. I've grown a few grey hairs over it and possibly an ulcer. So yah, I hope it works for you guys. Wishing everyone a fantastic 2016!


	37. CHAPTER 36

**A/N:** Thanks for all the comments and still sticking around. This chapter is rather emotional... for everyone involved.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 36**

Hardy stirred a few hours later. His mind was tired, but his body felt more rested. Light filtered in through a gap in the curtains that were shielding him from curious eyes on the other side of the glass door.

"Ed?" he asked insecurely into the dark. He hoped his friend was still around after he had gotten so angry with him.

"Yup, I'm here," came the response from a black corner in the room.

Hardy squinted into the direction, but couldn't make him out. "Why're you hiding over there?" he queried, Scottish accent roughening up his tired voice.

"Because I feel a strong urge to strangle you, so I'm keeping my distance," Baxter growled.

"'M sorry," Hardy sighed, apologizing for all the grief he'd been causing his friend.

"What are you sorry for? That your wife is an irresponsible, cheating –"

"Ed, stop it. Please," Hardy begged. The ache in his heart was a stark reminder of Tess' misdoings, he didn't need to hear it again.

"Fine. I'll shut up," Baxter complied.

"Have you called her yet?" Hardy wanted to know.

"No," came the monosyllabic answer. It was astounding how much defiance Baxter could put into those two letters.

"Are you going to?" Hardy sounded doubtful. He desperately needed Baxter to be on board with this plan.

"Depends on one thing," Baxter allowed quietly.

"And what would that be?" Hardy's anxiety was growing. He had the strong suspicion he wouldn't like what Baxter had to say.

"We will keep the official record in the case file straight." It wasn't a suggestion. Baxter had moved out of the dark into the beam of light that came through the crack in the curtains.

Hardy tried to sit up to catch better sight of Baxter's face. He propped himself on his elbow leaning on the opposite side of the broken ribs. His muscles were twitching with the effort and he despised how weak he was.

"And how are we going to do that?" he wheezed, suppressing a moan.

Baxter took in a deep breath. "Alec, there are four people who _know_ what happened. We can't drag them into this. The best we can do is to ask them to go with our version for the public while we assure them that we won't alter the case file. MacMillan is never going to go for anything but that and you know it. If she can get CPS to continue with the prosecution and it goes to trial, we can't afford to have any discrepancy in the documentation. Do you understand that?"

Baxter had left his hide-out and planted his tall body on the chair by Hardy's bed. His face was serious and underscored the gravity of his words.

Hardy's arm finally gave out from under him and he collapsed back onto his pillow. He yelped in pain, exhaling sharply.

"Alec, do you understand?" Baxter insisted, leaning in and absentmindedly helping Hardy to get more comfortable.

"No, I don't think I do. How is that supposed to work?" Hardy rasped.

"This is what we're going to do. You either agree or I won't go along with your shit plan," Baxter stated, not leaving any room for discussion. "The case file will depict everything as accurately as possible. When and where the pendant was found, and the chain of custody. It will state that Tess and Thompson were entrusted with taking the evidence back to the station, stopped on the way and the evidence was stolen while it was unattended in the car. It will note that the car is registered under your name. That leaves enough ambiguity to have you enter the picture for the public version of events without outright falsifying the record." Baxter paused, watching Hardy's reactions. Hardy kept his face impassive. So far there wasn't too much to argue about.

"The exact circumstances, however, will go into Tess' and Thompson's personnel files," Baxter added. He continued quickly before Hardy could even open his mouth, "Those are sealed and only supervising officers and DPS have access to them. The entry will also include the suspension of both detectives. Your personnel file will include that you were on medical leave at the time the pendant was found, granted by me. Besides the four people who know what happened, everyone else can have access to the same story that the public will have. I will make a statement to CID staff telling them exactly what will be in the case file in order to avoid discrepancies. If you insist, we can drop some targeted comments that will hint at that you were at the hotel as well and that it happened under your watch. We will not disclose any details to the press unless we are forced to," Baxter finished his explanation.

Hardy squinted at his boss. "And how does that reflect in any way that I was the responsible party? That still puts the blame on Tess and Thompson." Hardy spat the name of his DS. "We can't leave any doubt that I was in the possession of the evidence and that it was _my_ fault that it disappeared," Hardy argued.

"Oh, I don't know, Alec," Baxter exclaimed in exasperation. "And you know why I don't know? Because it _wasn't_ your fault and making this whole bloody fucking story work is quite frankly a waste of my brain power." Baxter's shoulders were heaving, he was so upset.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, until Hardy eventually spoke. His voice was soft. "Do you remember that night I took you to the hospital when Emma was ill? How desperate you were?" Baxter paled and nodded. "Do you also remember what Daisy said about her unicorn and keeping the monsters away?" Baxter nodded again. "Unicorns are not good enough any more to protect her, Ed. The ugly truth of the world can't be fended off by a purple stuffed animal. But I can do it. I can protect her from all the heartache that would come if she knew about what her mother did. It would shatter her world, Ed." Hardy had to pause to catch his breath and reign in the tremble in his voice. "You would have done anything that night to take Emma's pain away. Now, I would do anything to take Daisy's pain away. Do _you_ understand _that_?"

Hardy wasn't shouting or even talking with a raised voice. His plea had been quiet, but nevertheless it reflected his strong belief that what he intended to do was the right thing. Baxter pushed the chair back and started pacing about. If Hardy wasn't so incredibly tired, he would have wanted to join him. Baxter raked his fingers through his hair, shaking his head.

"Alec, we can't jeopardize a conviction more than it already has been." Baxter sounded desperate.

"We don't have to. Just put in the case file that Tess notified me of the find, that they went to the hotel and that it was my car. As you said, that leaves enough room for ambiguity and none of it is a lie in itself. Tess did call me after they found the pendant, remember? She was at the site of the search, so the lads from SOCO and maybe even Swenson can corroborate that. When you tell the CID staff about the loss of the evidence, you'll explain to them that I as the SIO will take full responsibility. There is no need to discuss the why and how." Hardy listened to his weakening voice as he grew increasingly winded. A few measured breaths helped him to be able to finish sharing his thoughts. "They'll hopefully buy it because they know how I run my team. I've never left them hang out to –" He couldn't finish, coughing violently and gasping for air. Baxter's face swam out of focus and was moving away in the tunnel his vision had become.

"Alec! Alec, stay with me. Take some breaths. Come on now, don't do this to me again. I'm getting tired of watching you pass out in front of me." Hardy held onto Baxter's words for dear life while Baxter was holding onto Hardy.

They sat together, Baxter clutching Hardy's hand until the moment had passed and breathing became less of a chore. His mind was sluggish, unable to form any clear thoughts. All he could think about was how distraught his little girl had been that day when her mother had lost her stuffed unicorn, her most precious possession, and how he had ventured out into the cold to retrieve it for her. He'd always been her hero. Now, he could be it for one last time.

"I cannae let 'er down, Ed," he slurred.

"I know. You should rest, Alec," Baxter soothed him, brushing his hair out of his forehead.

"Tess... I need to talk to her, please," Hardy implored his friend. He made an effort to focus on Baxter's face and their gazes locked. The usual steeliness in Baxter's eyes had given way to a soft smile.

"I'll call her. You trust me, right?" Hardy could only nod. "Go to sleep now. I'll take care of things."

Hardy closed his eyes as relief washed away his last reserve and he welcomed the darkness that embraced him.

* * *

Tess received the phone call Sunday night. At first, she only stared at the screen realizing who it was from, but then hurried to pick it up. She hadn't heard any news since Friday when Baxter had kicked her out of the office. His threat had been clear and she hadn't even dared to call the hospital out of fear of what Baxter's retaliation might be like. Worry had gnawed on her, leaving her sleepless.

She answered and before he could say something asked, "Ed, how is Alec?" Her voice was trembling more than she would have liked.

"He's alive. Barely. His heart took a bad hit and he's been in and out of the arrhythmia for the past two days. He's awake though and wants to see you." She could tell that Baxter disapproved wholeheartedly, but that he was willing to concede for his friend's sake.

As much as she disliked Baxter, she was relieved that Alec had him there for support. The thought of him going through this alone broke her heart. He had many flaws, but he didn't deserve to be by himself while he was so ill and his life was on the line.

It should have been her though, there at his side. _'To be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health'_ – her wedding vows had been floating through her mind these past days. Alec always stood by his no matter how detached he ultimately was. She, however, couldn't keep her vows any more, hadn't been able to in a long time. That part of her love was gone. It had withered away together with his closeness and engagement in their relationship. Not for the first time since Friday, she berated herself for how she could have let herself slip this far from him that she hadn't noticed. Looking back now, it was so obvious how much he had been struggling all along, trying to hide his illness from her.

"Are you there, Tess? I don't have the patience for games right now," Baxter barked into the phone.

His sharp tone startled her from her train of thought that had taken her miles away. "Sorry, Ed. Lost in time for a moment," she replied quietly.

"Can you come now? I know you've got Daisy, but maybe she can be home alone for a bit? She's old enough." Baxter's voice conveyed urgency.

"I sent Daisy to be with some friends over the weekend. I... ," she hesitated, not wanting to reveal how she didn't want Daisy to see her worry over her father.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm not really interested. I'm only doing this for Alec because he can't do it by himself. They don't allow phones in the cardiac ICU," he revealed, not making any effort to hide his disgust.

Tess was hurt and ashamed at the same time. Of course he would assume she was with Dave, using the opportunity of daughter and husband being out of the house. She hadn't seen Dave since the morning they received the phone call from Baxter. She hadn't dared. They had texted and talked a couple of times, but nothing more. She was alone with herself and her guilt over letting Alec down like that, over failing Pippa's and Lisa's families.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. You said he's in the cardiac ICU?"

"I'll meet you there. Don't think of going in there before talking to me, do you hear me?" he spat at her.

"No, I won't. Don't worry, you made yourself very clear from the start," she answered submissively. He snorted into the phone and hung up without saying anything else.

She slowly gathered her things and briefly contemplated bringing along some of Alec's belongings. Baxter hadn't asked for it, so she refrained from doing so. She locked the dark lonely house and walked down the driveway to her car. She stared at the broken window. Then she turned around and took Alec's car that he'd stopped driving because he'd been too ill. As she rode through the night to face her husband who was nearly killed by her actions, the lights around her blurred with her tears.

* * *

Baxter greeted her at the ICU's reception area. He looked pale and worn out, probably having spent most of the past days at Alec's side. He took her to a quiet family room and sat her down.

"You have to understand how fragile he is right now. Since the cardiac arrest on Friday morning, he's had several incidents where they needed to shock his heart back into a steady rhythm. Today has been the first time that it looks like he's starting to recover somewhat." He dragged his hands over his tired face, letting out a long breath.

She stared at the wall and rubbed her hands together, trying to hide her emotional turmoil behind that stoic face her husband was so skilled at. She couldn't show any weakness, not in front of Baxter.

He looked up, his eyes full of so much fear and concern that it made her stomach knot up.

"Tess, please do not upset him. He must not get agitated again. The only reason why I even called you was because he worked himself up so much over his desire to talk to you that he almost needed another shock. Whatever he has to tell you, simply listen to him. Don't argue, don't fight. I don't agree with it either, but it's really what he wants. And he's so stubborn when he's got something in that thick head of his."

Tess nodded, anxiety rising over what Alec wanted to tell her. She cleared her voice. "I won't, Ed. I will try my best. I didn't want this to happen, even if you think I'm a heartless bitch. I wouldn't have left him alone, if I had known how ill he was. He never told me. He lied to me about it, just as much as he lied to you. You know me, I wouldn't have let it come to this," she blurted out, remorse lacing her words. She was crying now, unable to hold back any longer.

Baxter scrutinized her for a long time, his steely blue eyes boring into her soul. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than before.

"Do you still love him, Tess?"

She dropped her gaze to the floor. That wasn't a fair question. She bit her lip.

"Yes and no." She expected him to make a derisive comment, but he simply listened to her, face displaying genuine interest.

Barely audible, she continued, "I'm not in love with him any more. But I do love him as a person and what he stands for - a wonderful father, a brilliant detective and a truly good man. I said goodbye to our relationship a long time ago. I was going to tell him about Dave, but then Daisy got sick and then the case happened and now everything went to shit. I feel like a horrible person for not saying anything earlier. And you know what the worst part in all of this is? Apparently I'm just as bad as he is when it comes to seeing what's going on with the other one." Her tears were back and she blushed with her embarrassment in front of the man who hated her so much and had so much power over her.

Baxter took in what she'd said. She recognized the expression he usually made when he was deep in thought. Eventually, the lines in his face softened and he leaned over and put his hand on her arm. "You both had your share in what happened in your marriage. Today is not the day to talk about that though. He would not be able to handle it, you will understand when you see him. He has something he wants to do and considering everything, I think we should go along with it even if in principle I don't agree."

He stood up and held out his hand to help her up. It was a simple gesture, but one of a truce for the sake of the man they both cared about. She took his hand and followed him. He explained what to expect inside the room and emphasized not to wake him or startle him because that could have dire consequences. Then he left her to herself, letting her know he would be in the family room.

He had repeatedly told her how ill Alec was, but she still wasn't prepared when she entered. She took one look at Alec and knew Baxter was right, he wouldn't be able to withstand anything right now.

His eyes were closed and his face was turned towards her. Deep shadows were encircling his orbits and his skin was of an unnaturally grey color that made Tess feel sick to her stomach. There was an oxygen cannula tucked into his nose which seemed to be the least threatening piece of tubes and wires attached to him. Out of the right side of his neck stuck a frighteningly large IV line from where countless tubing snaked up to what must have been a dozen blinking IV pumps. The green light of the pumps lent the darkened room an eerie atmosphere. Her eyes wandered to the monitor that displayed his heart rate. She wasn't sure, but it seemed slow, even for a sleeping person.

She stifled a sob, took in a few breaths and steadied herself. She then walked closer, quietly sitting down on a chair next to the bed. He looked very frail, not at all like the strong-willed man she had spent the last two decades with. She was about to take his hand but refrained from doing so, not knowing if that might wake him or if he even wanted her to. She brushed her fingers over his arm and realized how much skinnier he had become in the past weeks. Her wandering gaze got stuck on his face again, cheeks gaunt, fine pearls of cold sweat pooling on his forehead. How could she have not noticed the physical change that sure hadn't come over the last two days? Mortified over her own blindness, she buried her face in her hands to hide the tears.

"Don't cry, Tess. Please. I never could see you cry." His voice was weak and his Scottish accent stronger than usual.

Her head snapped up and his hazel eyes were right there. They were what would stick with her as the most jarring memory of her failing marriage. The fire and spark that were always in them, even if he was tired to no end, were gone and all there was, was sorrow and pain. And in that moment, she hated herself for what she had done to this man.

He must have seen something on her face, because he smiled tiredly at her and reached out with his hand. It was trembling slightly and she hurried to take it and hold it tight.

"I'm sorry Alec, so sorry." Her voice was breaking with the sobs that broke through the walls she'd build around her. All the moments she had been snide and disdainful to him, all the times she had been a bitch surfaced and flooded her with guilt.

"It's all right, love." He pulled her closer and reached for her tear stained cheeks. He cupped one with his cold and clammy hand and wiped his thumb over it. Then his hand dropped heavily onto the bed, exhausted with even this small exertion. "We both made mistakes." He gasped and Tess was looking around for a call button.

He slowly shook his head. "Don't, they'll just send you away," he whispered breathlessly. He was silent for a few moments, focusing on getting enough air to continue talking. His eyes were closed.

"We should talk about us some other day. I don't think I can right now." He paused again, face scrunched up ever so slightly in pain. After some more measured breaths, he seemed to gain more strength. He opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. There was some of that fire she had missed.

"I will take full responsibility for the loss of the pendant. You and Dave will not be implicated in public. If you keep it quiet for a while, nobody needs to know. Daisy will never find out and you will keep your job." His words came out labored, interrupted by the continued struggle for air, but nonetheless they were spoken with authority and resolution.

Tess was dumbfounded. "You can't do that Alec. It wasn't your fault," she objected hoarsely.

He glared at her. "I don't have the energy to argue about this, Tess. This is my decision and this is how it's going to be. You will do as I say," he hissed at her.

"Don't talk to me like that, Alec. Ill or not, you have no right to order me around," she snapped back.

He propped himself up on one arm, making sure he was holding her gaze. "Tess, I'm going to make this painfully obvious so that you can understand where I'm coming from. My heart is shit and there is not much they can do about it. I won't be around for much longer and then what's going to happen to Daisy if the truth comes out? You won't have a job to support her and she will be living with a parent that she most likely will despise for what she has done. I can take this to my grave, I really don't give a fuck. All I want is to know that Daisy will be fine. I can't do anything else for her when I'm dead, but I can do this now."

He fell back on his pillow, desperately trying to catch his breath after delivering his speech. His monitor started alarming and a couple of nurses rushed in. One of them switched out the cannula to an oxygen mask and the other nurse punched some buttons on one of the IV pumps. She then turned to Tess and told her she needed to leave. Alec protested and got even more upset, so the nurses let her stay.

She watched him struggling to settle down. There was nothing she could do to help. Or was there? Slowly his words sank in. Seeing him like that, fighting for his life, she could see his twisted logic. It was still wrong though. On the other hand, it was her way out. She could keep face in front of her colleagues and her daughter. Nobody ever needed to know. Besides Baxter. But he already was on board, judging from his earlier comments. And if it hadn't been for their marital problems to begin with, maybe that fateful day would have gone differently. She didn't want to go down that path, but to a certain extent he carried some responsibility, or at least had a hand in this, however indirect. Deep, deep down inside, she knew it was wrong to think that way and go with his plan, but self-preservation and fear of the future won.

She took his hand. "If this is really what you want Alec, then I will do whatever you need me to."

He turned his head towards her and pulled off the oxygen mask with trembling fingers. "I've thought about it, it's the best for Daisy," he managed to get out. He was gasping for air and Tess pressed the mask back on his face.

"Don't talk. You need to calm down. Just nod or shake your head." He nodded.

"Does Baxter know about all of this?" He nodded again.

"And he agrees to support your version of the story?" His head went up and down.

"Is this going on your personnel file?" This time, he shook his head.

"No. Ed… can... explain," he muttered under the mask. She wasn't happy about that answer. If it didn't go in his file that meant it was going into hers and Dave's because neither one of them would completely sweep it under the rug.

His breathing remained labored and his eyes kept fluttering shut. He fought to stay awake. His face was drawn into a painful mask and she realized it was time for her to let him rest.

"Do you want me to speak to Baxter for further explanation?" One nod only. He was fading quickly now.

"All right then. I will do so. I will let you sleep, you need to rest, Alec." She squeezed his hand one more time and was almost out the door when he asked with what seemed to be his last strength, "What'd ya tell Daisy? Wanna tell'er m'self, heart, case, everything, please." His words were so slurred that she barely understood.

"I told her you were on a trip to investigate something for the case. We'll talk more on how we'll tell her. You have to rest now." She had come back to the bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead. He was already out. She took one last look at him, heart aching for this man who had been her companion for so long, who had lost her and who she had lost somewhere along the way, not even knowing when and where. She wished it had never happened, but it did and now it was too late. She broke his heart and had no way of mending it because she did not love him any more. And for a stuttering heartbeat or two, she wished she did.

* * *

Baxter was waiting anxiously in the family room. More than once, he peeked out the door, expecting the code alarm to go off and the team to rush to Hardy's room. But everything stayed quiet. He paced in circles like a caged animal, tapping his legs with his fingers. The uncomfortable feeling he had about leaving Tess alone with Hardy was burning inside and made him nauseated. His mind kept wandering back to the morning when he had found Hardy, stricken by the news his wife had thrown upon him.

He wasn't sure if he believed anything that Tess had told him earlier in this room. She'd said she wouldn't have left him alone if she had known, but Baxter was doubtful. She had looked away for weeks while her husband was withering away under her eyes. Granted, he probably could've been more attentive himself, but at least he _had_ noticed that there was something wrong with Hardy. And he had persisted until he found out what was going on. It had almost been too late though. Anger over Hardy's stubborn need to hide and his own guilt mixed and erupted when he kicked a chair so hard that it slid across the room.

"That's how he makes me feel most of the time," Tess commented quietly and with surprisingly little smugness. She had entered the room behind his back. Baxter spun around and glared at her.

"If I were you, I'd refrain from making any snide remarks about your husband," he snarled. She dropped her gaze and sank down onto a seat next to her. Her face was pale and her red-rimmed and puffy eyes gave away that she'd been crying. She cupped her mouth with her palm, elbow resting on her knee. Her body was still besides her heavy breaths. It didn't take long until her tears hit the floor. Baxter stared at the tiny spots on the grey linoleum lining and didn't know what to make of them.

"Why are you crying, Tess?" he demanded to know harshly.

She didn't answer.

He took a step closer.

"Why are you crying, Tess?" he repeated, louder this time. Anger began to boil up.

She still didn't speak.

"Are you that relieved that you've lost all ability to talk? Or are you so sorry for yourself that you can't even utter a word?" His sarcasm was scathing.

Her head snapped up and her watery blue eyes shot him a fiery gaze. "It's none of your business, Ed," she spat back.

Baxter snorted in disgust. Everything she'd told him was a lie. "At least you didn't kill him this time."

She had moved so fast he didn't even see it coming. His cheek ached with the hard slap she'd given him across his mouth. She stood mere inches away from him and her hot breath heated up his already burning face. Her lips quivered and her wild eyes bore into his. With a tremble in her voice she hissed, "Don't you dare say that ever again!"

Towering over her, he replied coldly, "Why not, Tess? Can't hear the truth?"

This time he caught her wrist. He held it tight for a moment longer than needed and then shoved her back down onto the seat. Hunching over, she buried her face behind her palms.

"I didn't want this. I didn't want to hurt him," she cried, slurring her words. "He looks so _ill_." Her eyes came up and found Baxter's. "Is he really dying, Ed?" she sobbed.

Baxter held her gaze and suddenly his anger dissipated. She was genuinely distraught. Maybe she hadn't lied, maybe she still loved him somewhere deep inside. Maybe she loved him because he was the father of her daughter, maybe she loved him because he was a good man, maybe she loved him for what they once were. It didn't matter because Baxter realized she didn't _hate_ him. She had hurt him more than anything else ever could, but she hadn't _meant_ it. Just as much as she hadn't intended on losing the key evidence with her careless behavior. She was guilty, no doubt. But it wasn't of hate and deliberate acts of malice, no, she was guilty of the act of not caring, of abandonment and looking the other way. She was guilty of being the lesser human, despite whatever accusation of detachment and negligence she made against Hardy. She hadn't cared whereas he had cared too much.

Seeing her like this, almost made him feel sorry for her. But only almost. He sat down, leaving an empty chair in between them.

"He might very well be," Baxter answered his voice rough with emotion.

"I didn't do this to him. Please tell me I didn't," she begged, still crying.

Baxter took in a deep breath. "Tess, he fell ill right in front of your eyes and from day one you decided to take the easy way out. Yes, he lied to you, but if you're honest with yourself you can't deny that you also jumped on the opportunity to ignore the obvious. You let it go. You of all people should have known him better, you should have _seen_ him and his struggle. For God's sake, there are even people at the station who noticed it." He shook his head, his anger coming back.

"You did the same," she accused him weakly.

"No," he retorted firmly. "I didn't."

"How is it different? You knew and you let him work. You used his stubbornness for –"

"Don't you think I'm aware of that, Tess?" Baxter interrupted her harshly. "And I will always feel guilty about it. I should not have listened to him and taken him off this bloody case as soon as I noticed how much it was getting to him. I should have never let it come this far. At least I was watching him, I was talking to him, and I wasn't buying his shitty excuses. A week ago, after you had that row in the office, I told him he was done and he was willing to comply. I made two mistakes that day – you wanna know what they were? I cared too much about him. He was devastated and it got to me. That was the first. I trusted him to know when to stop. That was the second one. I never should have. I didn't _use_ him, Tess, I meant to _help_ him." Baxter ended tonelessly. His confession hadn't come easily.

He looked up and made sure to find her eyes. "He never told you because he didn't have it in him to make you sad. He tried but he couldn't do it. Finally, the night before the cath procedure he had gathered enough courage. He waited for you to come home to talk to you. You didn't. Where were you that night, Tess?"

She didn't have to say it, the answer was written all over her face.

"I thought so," Baxter stated dully. "How could you not have seen what state he was in when you called him to the office? He could barely walk when I dropped him off at your house. Can you explain to me how you could _leave_ him like that? After you unloaded all of your shit on him? I'm having a really hard time understanding that," Baxter continued, getting more and more agitated.

She stayed mute.

"Seriously, Tess? You're giving me the silent treatment? I get it, you don't love him any more, but you _abandoned_ him in his greatest hour of need. You walked out on him after all those years. Do you really care that little about him?" Baxter spat at her.

"I... he told me to leave," she muttered, staring at him with her wide eyes.

"You're joking, right? His heart was giving out in front of you and you _listened_ to him when he told you to leave?" Baxter cried in disbelief. He jumped up and resumed pacing. He shot her a sideways glance. She was paler than before and her head was hanging down.

"I swear, I didn't realize," she admitted, voice breaking. "I thought he was upset and angry. When I tried to talk to him, he sent me away and shut me out like he always does. I had enough and left. If I had known that he was so ill...," she trailed off, stifling another sob.

"I've said it before and I'm going to say it again. This is on you Tess. Marriages fail and I'm sure you both had your fair share in this. But that night...," Baxter had to pause to reign in his fury. "That night you made a choice to ignore the blatantly obvious. You can try and explain it away as much as you want but it doesn't change anything. You accuse him of shutting you out – and that might be part of the truth – but I don't think you ever made an effort to hear him either. You and Daisy are his Achilles' heel, you always have been, and he's always protected you, no matter what you did. And even now when he's dying, he still is." Baxter's last words were but a whisper, full of sorrow and grief.

He lowered himself onto a chair. It took him a few racing heart beats to calm down and change gear to deal with matters at hand.

"I'm going to tell you what the plan is and what you and Dave will do. There won't be any discussion, you will fully cooperate. If you don't, you're done. If Dave doesn't, he's done. I am only doing this for Alec, I have no – absolutely no – interest whatsoever in protecting either one of you. I will talk to Chief MacMillan tomorrow and once she gives her blessing, we will go ahead. Until then, you and Dave stay away, do you hear me?" Baxter barked.

She nodded submissively. Baxter slowly and carefully explained what he had agreed upon with Hardy. He watched her squirm and twitch when he told her that everything would be documented in their personnel files, but she was smart enough to stay quiet. She flinched when he told her that Dave would be stripped of his rank as detective sergeant and sent back on the beat as police constable. She turned bright red and bit down on her lip when he revealed his plan for her. She'd be demoted and transferred to the drug and fraud squad of South Mercia Police which was known to be the most unrewarding division in their constabulary. Nobody went there voluntarily.

"What's going to happen to Alec?" she finally asked after he had finished. There was just enough defiance in her tone to set him off.

"Why the fuck do you care?" he exploded, jumping up from his seat again. Breathing heavily, he continued shouting, "He's going to die, that's what's happening to him, Tess. And if by a miracle he makes it through this and can ever come back to work, he'll be my DI because he's the only one who actually did his job right."

"And how is that going to work with your story that it was his fault that the pendant was lost?" she sneered back.

"Let that be my worry. I think you should leave now," Baxter ordered sharply, having had enough of her. He'd gladly deal with reinstituting Hardy if he should ever get the chance.

She stood and walked away. When she was at the door, she stopped and without looking at him, she said weakly, "For whatever it's worth, I'm truly sorry."

* * *

Baxter watched the door close behind her. He fell onto a chair, buried his face in his hands and waited for his breathing to calm down. Then he pulled out his phone and called his wife.

"Everything all right?" Louise answered sleepily.

"It's done. I spoke to Tess," he stated, exhaustion lacing his words.

"You did the right thing, darling," she reassured him.

"I don't know. It doesn't seem right," he argued back.

"It's what he wants and from his perspective it makes sense. You said so yourself," Louise reminded him.

"Still doesn't make it right," he persisted.

"Maybe not. But that's not what this is about. It's about helping your friend. And you're making sure that the responsible people are being held accountable."

Baxter snorted into the phone. "Not enough if you ask me. They're lucky they still have a job. Besides, I still have to sell all of this to MacMillan," he sighed.

"Take her to see Alec. She's got a soft spot for him. He'll convince her," Louise suggested. Then she added tenderly, "Just like he convinced you."

He hummed in agreement and exhaled deeply. He hadn't slept much in three days and the weariness was taking its toll.

"Why don't you come home? I'm sure his doctor can give him something to sleep and you could use a break." There was a longing in her voice that reminded Baxter of a warm bed and an arm tightly wrapped around him.

"I haven't talked to him after Tess saw him," he yawned into the phone.

"Then go check on him and come home after. He won't mind. He wouldn't want you to wear yourself out." She had a point.

"All right. I'll see you soon then," he gave in.

"I'll be waiting for you. Love you."

"I love you too," he said warmly and ended the call.

He walked over to Hardy's room. He hoped he'd be sleeping, but when Baxter poked his head in, he found Hardy staring right at him.

"Was she okay?" he wanted to know, eyes wide.

Baxter stepped up to the bed and sat down. "Alec, you really shouldn't worry about her," he said with more disdain in his voice than he intended.

He pressed his lips to a thin line and turned his head away. "How can I not?" he whispered hoarsely.

Baxter inhaled and let the air out slowly. "Oh Alec."

"I still love her," Hardy said simply, eyes fixed somewhere far away.

"And you will for a while. I don't know what to say. I can't make that pain go away. I wish I could." Baxter stifled an untimely yawn.

"Go home, Ed," Hardy ordered softly. When Baxter lifted his tired head, Hardy was looking at him with those watery puppy dog eyes of his that had never failed to get to Baxter's heart.

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"'M fine. You need to sleep. In your bed. With your wife." His voice only faltered the tiniest bit.

"You're sure?" Baxter asked again, doubting that he should listen to his friend.

Hardy nodded and his eyelids fell shut. "Don't worry about me."

"How can I not?" Baxter echoed Hardy's earlier words. He smiled when Hardy's lips curled up.

"Thank you, Ed," he mumbled drowsily. Baxter tucked the blankets tighter around him, brushed his fringe out of his forehead and turned off the overhead lights.

"Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning," he whispered to an already snoring Hardy. He listened to the deep breaths and the for once regular beats of Hardy's heart, taking comfort in the quiet moment before he left the room for the night.

* * *

 **A/N:** I've got my trusty editor back! Now I can blame all mistakes on her – yeah ;-) Thank you, darlin'! I believe this was my favorite comment: "AKJLFDKSLAJFKDLSJAFKLDJSAKFLDJSAKFLJDSKALFJDKSLAJFKDLSAJFKLDJSAKFLJDSAKFJDKSLAJ I'M TEARING UP AND I AM GOING TO HIDE IN A CORNER AND CRY SOON!"

I hope people will not hate me for writing Tess' POV. I wrote that scene months ago, around the same time I wrote her confession and the morning after. I never intended on using her POV, but when it was time to delve into that moment when she sees him for the first time after that fateful day, it seemed the right thing to do. The scene became very dearly to my heart as I've always tried to give Tess more character than just the heartless bitch because very rarely people and human interactions are so black and white. There is a lot of grey, and nobody is perfect. So, I ask for forgiveness of those who might be unhappy with this part of the story. Maybe Baxter's anger is of some consolation.


	38. CHAPTER 37

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for the comments on the last chapter. It's time to convince Alec's and Baxter's boss Chief Constable Liz MacMIllan who we met a few chapters back (and who grew very quickly on me). Also Baxter is having a really hard time. He might need a hug ;-)

* * *

 **CHAPTER 37**

Hardy woke like he had fallen asleep, with Baxter right by his side.

"You didn't leave?" he rasped, moving stiffly in the bed. Every bone, muscle and whatever else there was that kept his treacherous body together seemed to ache.

"Good morning to you too." Baxter's attempts at teaching him manners never failed to amuse Hardy. He grunted a greeting that was drowned out by a sharp hiss. His broken ribs reminded him that he should stay put.

"Bloody hell," he wheezed, cradling his chest. He stubbornly tried to sit up and was punished with a stab in his side that made him see stars. He didn't give up though, and after another dizzying attempt, he finally managed to keep himself upright, panting and cursing under his breath, but still alive. For now.

Solely focused on the ordeal of moving his battered body, he'd forgotten all about Baxter. Hardy startled when he looked up and saw him sitting there, quietly observing his struggle.

"For God's sake, Ed, don't scare me like that," Hardy growled.

Baxter pulled the corners of his mouth down and raised an eyebrow. "It's not like I was hiding," he said sullenly. They glared at each other until Hardy rolled his eyes.

"So, did you ever go home?" A worried tone crept into Hardy's gruff voice. Baxter looked tired, but not as much as last night. He was clean-shaven and less disheveled. Hardy absentmindedly scratched his own scruff, longing for a hot shower. He'd have to get up for that though.

"I did," Baxter confirmed Hardy's assumption. "I'm on my way to the station," he added, studying his fingernails. He only did that when he had something on his mind.

Hardy shot him a sideways glance, wondering what Baxter was up to. His fingers raked through his sticky and itchy hair. The thought of a shower became more and more appealing. Hardy stuck a leg out from under the blanket, letting it dangle over the edge of the mattress. The motion didn't cause any major pain. Encouraged, he moved his other leg and turned slightly towards the side of the bed.

It was a mistake. A shooting jab jolted through his body and left him toppling over. Baxter caught his fall and propped him up.

"I was waiting for this," Baxter commented drily.

"Oh, don't be a smartarse," Hardy pressed through clenched teeth.

"You know, Emily and I have a bet going about when you'll try to make the run for it," Baxter said. Still catching his breath, Hardy wasn't looking at Baxter's face, but he could hear the smirk in Baxter's voice.

Hardy dignified the revelation with a grunt. Of course they would. "I'm glad the two of you are best mates now. Any joint plans for summer holidays yet?" he asked sarcastically while Baxter put his legs up and maneuvered him back to lying down.

"Not yet, but we're thinking about Scotland," Baxter replied with a sincere face.

"Scotland? Why would you wanna go there?" Hardy rose to the bait, unable to hold himself back.

"Oh, well, you know... great scenery, lakes and highlands and such...," Baxter trailed off, inspecting his fingers again.

"And?" Hardy's tone was laced with suspicion, awaiting the sarcastic remark that undoubtedly would follow. He couldn't help himself from getting drawn into Baxter's banter.

Baxter looked up and his steely eyes pierced Hardy's. "And after dealing with you, you stubborn knob, no Scot can ever scare us again."

Hardy's mouth gaped open. For once his wit had left him. After a few heartbeats he grumbled, "Didn't you say you have to go to the station?"

Baxter grinned, but then his expression changed and the seriousness returned. "I do. I have an appointment with Liz MacMillan. To sell her your shit plan."

Hardy cringed. He'd ignored the fact that without her buy-in they would never be able to get away with what he thought would save his daughter's world from shattering. It was time to face the harsh reality of how to make it happen. He scratched his eyebrows with his pinkie finger.

"What're ya going to tell her?" He heard his Scottish accent creeping into his words, a sure sign of how uncomfortable he was with making Baxter his messenger.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe that you're a moron who wants to ruin his career and his life to protect his irresponsible and adulterous –"

"Stop it, Ed," Hardy interjected and shut Baxter up before he could use any expletives. The heartache he was feeling was bad enough, but with every mention of what had transpired, with every time it was said out loud, the knife was driven in deeper and twisted around. "I want to talk to her myself," Hardy demanded insecurely.

"And how do you propose that should happen? It's not like you're going to walk out of here anytime soon," Baxter scoffed.

Hardy ducked his head. "Did you have to say that?" he complained. "You should tell me what your bet was, so I make sure you'll lose," he added in a sad attempt at a comeback.

"Ha, not going to." Baxter shook his head and let out a frustrated huff. "Seriously though. I'll have to tell her what's going on. She ordered me to come in first thing in the morning to discuss disciplinary actions for Tess and Thompson."

There it was again, that knife, being driven in deeper, by the mere mention of the two of them in one sentence. The worst part was that he didn't even feel satisfied with the thought of them being punished. It could never make up for the damage they'd caused. Hardy searched Baxter's scowling face and doubt grew in him. There was no way in hell that Baxter would be able to convince Liz MacMillan to blatantly ignore all of her principles that for decades she'd worked so hard to uphold. He'd have to do it himself.

"Can't you get her to come here?" Hardy cringed at how pathetic he sounded. And also because the idea of Tess and Thompson together had set off an insidious arrhythmia spell that was rendering him more and more uncomfortable. He curled and uncurled the numb fingers of his left hand, hiding it under the sheet. It was a feeble attempt at concealing the fact that whatever strength he'd had earlier was quickly swept away by his treacherous heart.

Baxter leaned forward and rested his clasped hands on the bed. "Alec, she's the Chief Constable, she doesn't do house calls," Baxter lectured with a resigned tone. Yet again they faced off in a daggered staring match. Hardy's vision blurred, but he didn't let on. This time, it was Baxter who rolled his eyes and looked away first.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do," he sighed and stood. Baxter's gaze got stuck on the monitor and Hardy knew he was busted. Baxter blinked away the flicker of grief that had filled his eyes and when he turned to face Hardy there was determination burning in them. It should have inspired confidence in Hardy, but there was something else in Baxter's expression that made that doubt flare up again.

"I have to tell her. Can't be you," Hardy implored his friend.

"And why not, Alec?" came Baxter's sharp reply.

"Because ultimately you don't agree with it. You can never be as convincing as I can be," Hardy voiced aloud what both knew to be true.

"Yeah, because it's a shit plan," Baxter muttered under his breath. He kicked an imaginary pebble, head hanging down. The determination that Hardy had seen mere moments ago was faltering, confirming Hardy's fear about his friend's second thoughts. A flutter in his chest reminded him how desperately he needed Baxter's support to see this through.

The monitor finally had caught up with what Hardy had noticed minutes ago and blared its alarm through the room. Baxter's eyes were mesmerized by the green crawl on the screen. Hardy couldn't make out his face any more, but he saw him slowly shaking his head.

"I can't do it, Alec. Tess did this to you and I can't let her get away with it. I'm sorry." Baxter's voice broke.

Hardy closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He drew on all the strength he could muster, sat up, wincing with pain, and reached for the alarming monitor. His trembling fingers stretched as far as they could and he hit the right button. The monitor flickered and then went black. No more distractions. Hardy fell back onto his pillow, struggling to have enough air to say what he had to.

"Enough of this, Ed," he rasped. "I did this to myself. If I had taken better care of myself, it wouldn't have come to this. If I had taken better care of my wife, it wouldn't have come to this. I'm responsible for what happened. I should have been _there_ in more than one way and I wasn't. Not for Tess, not for Pippa and Lisa, and not for you, Ed. People put their trust in me and I disappointed everyone. I couldn't be what they needed me to be. And now it's too late. The only thing that remains is to put things right for the one person in my life that I've managed not to take down with me. She'll lose me, but at least she won't be left with nothing."

He sputtered out the words, just like he had sputtered out the murky water when he had tried to save a girl that couldn't be saved. The overwhelming feelings of remorse and regret drowned him in the river that he had never been able to come back from. His vision finally had failed him and he didn't know where up and down was. Losing all ground, he gave in and let himself be washed away.

"Please, help me," was the last thing he whispered before the river took him.

* * *

Baxter stared at the limp figure of an unconscious Hardy. Yet again. If there had ever been a question about the fragility of his friend's mind and body, that uncertainty had been shattered by the words Hardy had uttered before he'd passed out. Baxter was rooted to the spot until the ICU team shoved him to the side and he stumbled out of the room.

He knew he probably would hate himself for the rest of his life for going along with Hardy's plan, but how could he not? For a moment his doubt and sense of justice had won over the urge to help his friend. It didn't last long though. Hardy was a fierce negotiator, with his most compelling argument – a deadly heart condition that let him conveniently faint to underscore his point – being impossible to top.

He fled out of the ICU, needing to get away from all of it before he was supposed to meet with Liz MacMillan. It would have been nice to walk to the station to have some time to gather his thoughts, but he was running late. One didn't let Liz MacMillan wait, especially not if one wanted to convince her of something she would never agree to in her right mind. A few days ago, he would have thought the same of himself. His world had changed since then.

As soon as he reached the station, he was bombarded with messages by the desk sergeant. Running past him, he waved dismissively and flew up the stairs to MacMillan's office. When he got there, his shortness of breath rivalled Hardy's and he fell heavily onto a chair after he had bardged through the door.

Liz MacMillan raised one of her pristinely groomed eyebrows, closed the file folder she'd been working on and interlaced her bony fingers. She leaned forward, her dark eyes glowing. He was horrified when he realized he hadn't even knocked.

"Why, hello Ed. Come on in and take a seat," she greeted him, voice sharp as a knife.

He ducked and found himself once again studying those intricate wood carvings on her desk. He idly wondered if she had chosen the antique piece of furniture on purpose to help poor souls like him avoid her piercing gaze. He could feel it on him though, boring through him. He tugged nervously on his collar, feeling stifled by the sudden heat in him. One day, Hardy would have to make good for the ordeal he was putting him through. One day, when he...

"Ed!" His name whipped through his reverie and he jumped. He lifted his eyes and was met with MacMillan's unrelenting face.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he croaked, clearing his throat.

"You're late," she informed him drily. She was tapping a pencil on the table, the only sign of her impatience. "Where have you been all morning?"

"In the hospital. I was with Hardy," he admitted.

"Oh. Is he...," – she hesitated the tiniest bit – "Is he awake?"

"Yes. They let him wake up Saturday morning and took out the breathing tube."

"And?" There was a bigger question hiding behind those three letters. Her face had softened.

"He seems to be his usual stubborn self." That was an understatement if there had ever been one. Baxter trailed his fingers along the wood carvings.

"What about his heart?" Baxter's eyes snapped up and he scrutinized the woman in front of him. Something in her tone made him think she wasn't only referring to the faulty organ but to something more than that. Her face was as impassive as it always was.

"Not good," he conceded. They exchanged a glance and Baxter was sure now, she'd meant it not only in the literal way.

She straightened out the file folder in front of her to a grid that was only present in her head. Baxter had known her long enough to recognize the subtle signs of her being disconcerted.

"Enlighten me about your next steps," she demanded roughly, changing the topic. Or at least she assumed she was directing their conversation away from Hardy. She couldn't have been more wrong. Baxter couldn't get a word out. His jaw twitched and he pulled his tense shoulders up. The silence dragged out until she finally lost her patience.

Her palm slapped down on that file folder she'd been fidgeting with. "God damn it, Ed, stop playing fucking games with me. If you can't handle the situation, because you're emotionally too close, I'll find someone who can. I can't afford to have my senior officers fall like dominoes."

"Hardy wants to talk to you," Baxter blurted out. Her face drew into a puzzled frown, doubtlessly confused by his sudden agitation.

"Sure. He can do that when he comes back," she agreed hesitantly. "We should really focus on matters at ha-"

"No. You don't understand," he interrupted her rudely. "He needs to talk to you now, Liz. _Today_ ," he emphasized. He cursed Hardy and his shit plan silently but nonetheless colorfully. This was ridiculous.

MacMillan leaned back in her chair, dark eyes resting on him. "And why would I need to do that?"

"Erm... he doesn't want me to tell." Baxter felt like a moron. He eyed his boss anxiously, waiting for the explosion to come. Instead she slowly pushed her chair back, walked around her desk, perched on the edge of the old wooden furniture and leaned into Baxter's face.

"I'm going to say this only once, CS Baxter, so you listen carefully." Her tone was measured and she enunciated every single word distinctly. "I do not care if Hardy is in hospital and I do not care if you are only guilty by association. You fucked up, both of you. Neither one of you is in a position to make any requests. Your heads are on the chopping block just as much as those of DS Henchard and DS Thompson. So, if he wants anything from me, he will have to wait until this shit storm has blown over and he is in a position again to stick his neck out. And if he thinks he can behave like a little kid, asking you to not tell me things, he is wrong."

Baxter bravely withstood her fiery gaze. "What if he doesn't come back? What if he never makes it out of that hospital, Liz?" Their faces were so close that he could see her pupils widen. Then she suddenly retreated, not quickly enough though for Baxter to miss the glitter in the corner of her eyes. His shoulders relaxed, knowing that he'd got to her.

"Can't it wait?" she asked again, turning her back to him.

"No. It can't," Baxter confirmed firmly. "I'll take you there. Now, if you don't mind." He felt uncomfortable about the idea, but there was no way out and it needed to be dealt with. All the journalists lingering around the main entrance hadn't escaped his attention. There was only so much time left to set Hardy's shit plan into motion.

Her agreement came reluctantly and in the form of her shrugging on her tailored red silk jacket. Wordlessly, she gestured him to come and paused in expectation of him holding the door open for her. She resolutely tugged on her lapels, pinned down a stray grey hair into her tight bun and stormed past him, not bothering to look back to see if he was following.

* * *

Baxter felt decidedly awkward taking Liz MacMillan to the hospital. She was sitting silently in his car, not sharing any of her thoughts. It unnerved Baxter, but he refrained from making conversation. Maybe it was better if nothing was said. He parked the car and walked her to the ICU. Before they entered the room, he stalled her with his hand on her arm.

"Liz, please remember not to upset him. He pretends to be fine but he isn't. I think when you see him, you'll know what I mean," Baxter prepared her.

MacMillan squinted at him. "Why do I get the feeling that I won't like what he has to tell me? And that I might be more upset than him?"

Baxter shuffled his feet, staring at her fashionable red shoes that matched her jacket perfectly. "I promised not to say anything. He insisted on telling you himself," he muttered, elaborating on what he had said earlier.

"For God's sake, Ed. Stop playing games. This whole situation is already so damn screwed up that I don't need him to make things more complicated. If you really don't want me to upset him, you should warn me so that I'm not going to explode in his face," she argued, getting a bit testy.

Baxter's face heated up. She was right. If Hardy came at her with his shit plan without warning, she would most likely want to throttle him. He chewed on his lips.

"Ed?" she growled.

"Fine. He wants to take the blame for what happened," he blurted out.

MacMillan's mouth gaped open. She moved as if she wanted to say something, but clenched her jaw instead. Then her neck turned red, followed by her cheeks until her whole face was as red as her silk jacket and shoes. She took in a sharp breath and pressed her answer through gritted teeth.

"And why would he want to do such a horrendously stupid and utterly moronic thing?"

Baxter ducked. He didn't want to admit it, but he was intimidated by his boss. "You should ask him yourself," he answered, barely audible.

She closed the distance between them, and although she was a head shorter than him, she was right in his face again.

"Tell me one good reason why you're going along with this?" she hissed, their noses almost touching.

Baxter held her piercing gaze and poured his heart out, "Because it's his dying wish."

She fell away from him, face turned pale. Her eyes didn't leave his, burning through him. She took in a few deep breaths, straightened her suit jacket and smoothed her hair that didn't need any smoothing. Then she opened her mouth as if to say something, but bit down instead, holding up her palm as if to ward off any further words.

"I can't even…," she mumbled, trailing off in utter exasperation.

"Remember not to upset him, please?" Baxter begged sheepishly.

"Seriously, Ed? You know what I want to do to him right now?" she snapped back.

"I do, believe me. And I tried to talk him out of it and you know what he _did_ to me?" Baxter replied, his voice taking on a pitch that sounded very much as if he were to lose his sanity any minute.

"He tried to die on me, three times. And when I say die, I mean literally _die_. He got so upset that his stupid heart gave out on him. They had to resuscitate him. Did I say he did that three times? Three, Liz, _three times_!" – he held up three trembling fingers in front of her dumbfounded face – "Until I finally agreed. Talk about emotional blackmail!" he shared his anguish, words tumbling out of his mouth.

He'd lost it - his sanity and possibly his job judging from MacMillan's stunned expression. After a few moments of staring at each other, she shrugged.

"Well, _you_ wanted to hire him," she stated sardonically, pushed him out of the way and resolutely opened the sliding glass door to Hardy's room.

Baxter watched her disappear behind the curtain that was lending the room the illusion of privacy. He stared at the billowing grey fabric until it stopped moving. The code alarm hadn't gone off yet, so maybe it was safe to follow her inside. He sighed deeply and braced himself for the spectacle.

* * *

When Liz MacMillan walked in, she wasn't quite sure what to expect. The anger at the utmost stupidity of this man was still boiling hot inside her. Baxter had warned her not to upset him, but he had forgotten to prepare her for Hardy's appearance **.**

Hardy was asleep when she came into the room. That gave her some time to take in the man in front of her. It was a good thing, because it took her a few long moments to adjust her memory of Hardy to match it to the haggard figure lying in the bed. Her eyes flicked over the still body that was connected to a myriad of tubes and monitoring devices. His skinny hands twitched in his sleep, clawing into the sheet and his gaunt face scrunched up in pain. With a ragged gasp, his eyes popped open, unfocused and panicked. He panted a few times until he found his bearings and his gaze came to rest on MacMillan.

She was watching him, working through her own feelings. She could never figure out why she had taken a liking to him. He was gruff, petulant and absurdly stubborn. But when she had grilled him that day he had come to ask for a new chance away from the nightmare his hometown had turned into, something about him had touched her. Maybe it was the way he spoke about his dedication to his job, his sincere belief in protecting the ones that needed it the most. Maybe it was the way he spoke about his wife, so full of love and devotion.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pulling herself together. Thinking about what that woman had done wasn't going to help her stay calm.

There had been one other memorable thing during that conversation almost a decade ago. He had spoken about his child and how he didn't want her to grow up with all those stories about her parents around her. He wanted the fresh start more for her than for himself. And then he had reluctantly talked about the boy whose father's life he had been forced to take. The boy whose life he had saved, in more ways than Hardy probably realized. He had looked at her with those big brown eyes and asked for her help and her trust in him. She couldn't help herself and agreed to take him on. When she told him he had the position, she knew she'd done the right thing. She had never heard a more heartfelt thank you and a more solemn promise to not disappoint. And he never had.

"Ma'am," he said, voice hoarse. He quickly scrubbed over his face, awkwardly scratching at the scruff on his chin, and then unsuccessfully tried to fix his unruly hair. His mop fell back into his eyes immediately. She hid a smile at his feeble attempts of being representable while he was so unwell. He moved in the bed and suddenly groaned. His hand flew to the side of his chest, bracing himself.

She tilted her head and stepped closer, reaching out but not touching him. "You all right, Hardy?" she asked feeling rather dumb. He clearly wasn't.

"'M fine, ma'am," he wheezed, struggling to find a comfortable position. She sighed. Baxter had been right, he was pretending. And he sucked at it.

Fidgeting with his pillow and blanket, he got more and more entangled in the tubes and cables, all the while pain was flicking over his scowling face. She watched it for about thirty seconds and then couldn't resist the urge to help. She stepped up to the bed, took the pillow in one hand and shoved her other under Hardy, pulling him up. He yelped and turned as white as the sheet he was lying on.

"Jesus, Hardy, what's the matter with you? You're acting like you've been beaten up," she exclaimed. Her gaze fell on his bare chest where the gown had moved and her eyes widened. He did look like someone had run him over and she realized that this must be the aftermath of multiple resuscitations over the past few days. She gently lowered him onto his pillow.

"Did they crack a rib?" she inquired quietly while she pulled the gown and blanket back over his battered body.

"Two," he rasped, shooting her a sheepish glance. Sweat was pooling over his eyebrows and he was trembling from the exhaustion this brief struggle had caused. She nodded, hiding her shocked face while she pulled over a chair.

"Baxter said you needed to talk about something," she said, a question resonating in her words.

"Aye. Thanks for coming, ma'am," he muttered.

She tried to keep her face impassive and to restrain the urge to scream her questions at him. Why on earth did he want to take the blame for something he didn't do, why did he want to protect the person who was indirectly responsible for the state he was in now? She must have failed or maybe it was Hardy's keen perception.

"Baxter already told you, didn't he?" Hardy snarled angrily. Before she could answer, Baxter trudged into the room.

Hardy immediately snapped at him, "You told her. You were not supposed to." He sulked like a child.

"Alec, what was I supposed to do? She demanded to know," Baxter whined. Hardy rolled his eyes.

"Since when are you that much of a wimp and get intimidated so easily?" Hardy retorted, lips pulled to a pout.

"I had to tell her something. And I had to prepare her not to upset you because -"

"Not upset me?" Hardy interrupted Baxter, his voice shifting pitch. "I'm not a bloody invalid."

"Ach, for fuck's sake, Alec. You tried to die on me while we were talking about this stupid plan. Three times, to be precise," Baxter spat at Hardy, sticking three of his fingers under his nose. Hardy's mouth gaped open and then he shut it without saying anything, pressing his lips to a thin line.

MacMillan watched them fight, in a morbid way amused by the spectacle. They reminded her of her two sons fighting over who'd get to play with a new toy first. It was astounding how two grown men could still behave like children.

She seized the pause in the argument to budge in. "Boys, will you cut it." She deliberately had chosen her tone and words and it had the desired effect. Their heads whipped around and she had their full attention. She smiled, when she said, "I guess now that you've got this out of your system, we could maybe use the time in a more productive manner." She fixed her gaze on Hardy's embarrassed face and continued, "You better have a really good reason to even dare ask me to go along with this idiotic plan of taking the fall for something you didn't do."

She sat, crossed her legs and arms, waiting for him to make his move. She didn't quite expect that he'd be as dramatic. Just when he began to talk, his eyes glazed over and without a warning he passed out.

"See, that's what I'm talking about" was all that Baxter muttered while they were standing in the corner watching the ICU team do their thing. In the end she had to agree with Baxter. Passing out in front of them _was_ the ultimate emotional blackmail.

* * *

MacMillan sat at Hardy's bedside waiting for him to regain consciousness. It had only been a minor attack the doctor had said. MacMillan was still sufficiently impressed.

"Ed, was he this bad the whole time while working on the case?" she wondered out loud.

Baxter shook his head. "No. Ever since his heart stopped after Tess talked to him he seems to be barely able to handle anything. I wasn't exaggerating when I said it destroyed him."

MacMillan searched Baxter's angry face. She knew that the two had become friends over the years, but she wasn't aware that Baxter cared that much about Hardy. It seemed, she wasn't the only one who had a soft spot for the grumpy Scot.

"Can't they do something about it?"

Baxter stood in front of the window, his back turned to her. His hands clasped behind him, he was curling and uncurling his restless fingers.

"Not much," he admitted, defeat making his voice hollow. "He needs that pacemaker, but they can't do it anytime soon. Not after this. And if he makes it until then, his chances of surviving the procedure are slim."

MacMillan's eyes rested on Hardy's drawn face. "Since when did he know he needs that pacemaker?"

Baxter turned and slouched against the windowsill. "I'm not sure. Maybe a month or so, I think. He meant to take care of it, but then those two girls disappeared. He stubbornly ignored it until he couldn't any longer."

"And his wife let him get away with that?" MacMillan asked in disbelief.

"He never told her. Claims there wasn't ever a good opportunity. Personally I think she made it harder for him and conveniently looked away, considering what she'd been up to." MacMillan noted Baxter's disgusted tone. She didn't blame him.

"He should have never been left alone with that task. He can't hurt her, too soft," Baxter added, his words displaying a good amount of softness himself. MacMillan hid a smile. A smile that quickly turned into a worried frown when Hardy woke, coughing and sputtering. A whimpered cry escaped his throat and he had a look of sheer horror on his face.

Baxter had rushed to Hardy's side and muttered some soothing words in his ear, until Hardy's breathing became less labored and his eyes focused on Baxter's face.

"What… happened?" Hardy stammered in between gasps.

"You dodged the answer to my question most dramatically. I should tell my five-year-old granddaughter, she'd worship your abilities" MacMillan interjected sarcastically.

Hardy had the guts to roll his eyes at her. Then he scratched at his stubbly chin, a puzzled frown building over his eyes.

"Remind me what that question was," he finally asked sheepishly.

MacMillan tilted her head and sighed. This might turn into yet another dragged out afternoon if they continued at this pace. She leaned forward, putting a hand on the mattress. "Hardy, quit stalling. Just explain to me why I should even begin to consider your idiotic plans," she growled. "And don't you dare pass out again. I'm not buying into the drama," she warned him.

"Ma'am, the loss of the key evidence in this case happened under my watch. I entrusted two of my officers with the search. It was my poor judgment to rely on those two." He made his opening argument, slowly and interrupted by the need to catch his breath. It was painful to watch.

"Well, DI Hardy, as far as I'm concerned the only thing I could fault you for is the fact is that it actually did _not_ happenunder your watch. You were nowhere near that car and that pendant," she replied sternly. "Those two detectives are adults and very capable of making their own decisions. Poor decisions, I give you that, but still their own." She observed the twitches in his jaw and fingers with her allusion to what had transpired. God, how she detested this woman who had never been anywhere near her husband's brilliance as a detective and now had possibly ruined that brilliance forever.

It didn't escape her attention how Baxter's eyes nervously flicked back and forth between the monitor and Hardy. She risked a quick glance and noted the significantly faster pace of his heart rate. Not entirely clear about Hardy's heart condition, she went more by Baxter's concerned face than anything else, when she asked,

"Are you okay? Do you need a break?"

"'M fine. It'll pass," he dismissed her, snorting. MacMillan bit down on her lip. He was anything but fine. She remained silent though, giving him the break he needed so much but didn't allow himself.

Out of nowhere a memory flashed through her mind. She'd recently been made Chief Constable and the constabulary was stumbling through an awful case of a serial arsonist who by that time had torched down half of Sandbrook. The press was lighting fire under the police force's butt, proud of their poorly chosen pun. She'd been exhausted, sleep deprived and battling the lingering effects of a pneumonia she'd caught from her oldest grandchild. Every day at the wee hours of the morning, when she'd pulled up in the garage, Hardy had been there with a cup of tea, always from the same place. He'd quietly opened the door of her car, handed the tea to her and reminded her to take a break. Every day he'd renewed the promise that he would find the responsible person, holding on to that tea cup from what later she'd learn was the first place the arsonist had burned down.

He got him. Just in time before the lunatic could make good on his threat to torch down her car with her in it. Hardy had saved her life and she would never forget his pale, bleeding face and wind swept hair when he pulled her out of that car, smelling of ash and smoke, after he'd put out the fire that would have burned down her home. The bulky arsonist had put up a fight, but Hardy despite being such a lightweight had knocked him out. Hardy had cradled her shaking body against his chest, coughing and wheezing with his words of comfort. He had been shaking just as much as her and by the time the ambulance arrived, he'd passed out holding onto her. She'd blamed it on the smoke inhalation, but now she wondered if it might have been his heart all along.

Her trip down memory lane had given him some time to settle down. His breathing was easier and he didn't look quite as ashen.

He chewed on his lip and then looked her straight in the eye. "Ma'am, you have children. I don't know what you would do to make sure that they are taken care of in case you can't, but I know what I would do. _Anything_." The last word was spoken with so much conviction, underlined by a wild burning fire in his eyes, that it sent a shiver down her spine.

He fidgeted with the oxygen cannula in his nose, pulling it out. That earned him a stern look from Baxter and he put it back with a resigned sigh. It didn't help much to fight his shortness of breath though. Her heart ached to see him struggle this much.

"My wife…" - he flinched - "... has made a grave mistake and she should feel the consequences. But my daughter didn't. If my wife loses her livelihood, she won't be able to take care of Daisy and I don't want that." He stopped abruptly, fisting the sheet over his chest. Baxter tensed up, but the moment passed and Hardy's long fingers uncurled, coming to a rest over his heart. His eyes fluttered shut, when he continued with a hollow voice, "If my daughter ever finds out what her mother's action caused, she will hate her for that. And I can't let that happen. I can't let her grow up hating the only parent she has."

"But Alec, she won't," MacMillan said softly, placing a timid hand on his that was still draped over the faulty organ under his sternum. She could feel the jolt that his heart made and it frightened her beyond belief.

His eyes snapped open with the yelping wheeze that escaped his throat. "Yes, she will," his whispered reply came. She curled her bony fingers around his, squeezing them gently. She watched him drift off into sleep or unconsciousness, she didn't know. Her eyes came up to find Baxter's. The outrage was still there, but she also saw something else. There was a desperate need to help his friend in the only way he could, a need to make sure that Hardy's daughter was taken care of and Hardy could find peace.

She let go of Hardy's cold hand. She closed her eyes, when she said, "I'm all ears. Tell me the plan."

Baxter exhaled deeply. "Thank you, Liz."

She knew she was making a mistake that could backfire and ruin her spotless career, but that seemed so trivial compared to what this man was trying to do out of love for his child. It would have made her a hypocrite if she, after having hired Hardy for exactly that passion, would now have denied him to live it out until he couldn't any longer. She listened to the crazy plan the two had come up with and after much less hesitation than she should have had, she agreed to play along. It broke her heart, but not as much as it had broken Hardy's.

By the time she was ready to leave, Hardy hadn't woken up yet. Baxter had gone ahead and she was alone in the room with Hardy. She carefully brushed his hair out of his eyes, trailing her fingers down his temple. Then she bent down and ghosted a kiss on his forehead, very much like a mother's touch.

"Sleep well, Alec. I hope you find the peace you need," she whispered into his ear and left without looking back, eyes stinging and heart heavy.


	39. CHAPTER 38

**A/N:** I apologize for the delay. I was busy with "Down By The River". Also, as this story is drawing closer to its end, I'm having a really hard time letting go. A big, big THANK YOU to HAZELMIST for being my beta/editor and friend – I would be nothing without her support. The shit plan is being set in motion...

* * *

 **CHAPTER 38**

Walking into CID had never felt harder than on that day. Baxter and MacMillan had agreed that he'd be the one to talk to his staff while she would stand back. But not after talking to DC Swenson and the three SOCO team members.

When he entered the main room, it fell silent instantly. People dropped what they were doing and all eyes were on him. Baxter was eerily reminded of that Monday only a week ago, when Hardy had been the center of attention.

"Everyone, please listen," he shouted. Not that there was a real need to raise his voice. "I'll have an announcement to make in a little while. Please go on as usual until then." The response was silence. He searched the crowd for DC Swenson. He gestured her to come to his office together with Liz MacMillan.

"Sir, how's DI Hardy?" was the first thing that she wanted to know as soon as his door had closed. Baxter and MacMillan exchanged a glance.

"Alive," Baxter grunted. He took his place behind his desk, whereas MacMillan lingered at the door. Swenson's gaze flicked back and forth between the two. She was clutching a folder and seemed unsure of what to do with herself.

"Would you sit down please, Swenson," Baxter sighed. She did and placed the file on his desk. He frowned at it.

"What's this?" he asked impatiently. He didn't want to be bothered with anything but the task at hand.

"It's Carlisle's forensics' report on DS Henchard's car." There was an undertone in her voice that made his ears perk up. He felt MacMillan's gaze rest on him. She'd heard it too.

"And?" he drawled, mirroring her questioning tone.

"I think you should get him in here. And the others too," Swenson suggested. Baxter squinted at her and reached for his phone. He called the three men that he needed to convince anyway to be part of this insane plan. They waited in an awkward silence until Smith, Burke and Carlisle joined them.

His office felt crowded and the thick air was stifling Baxter. He resisted the urge to loosen his tie.

"DC Swenson says you wanted to share something about the report on the break-in of DS Henchard's car?" Baxter addressed Steve Carlisle who was leaning against the wall.

"The back door window on the driver's side was smashed in. The glass shard pattern confirms that it was indeed broken in from the outside. DS Henchard reported she had the bag with the evidence in the back seat and that the bag was taken. She states that they found the car unlocked, the alarm sounding. The car stereo had been removed. We only found a few fingerprints," Carlisle concluded.

"So, basically we know it was broken into, things were stolen, but nothing else," Baxter summarized with disappointment. He should have known that it wouldn't lead to anything, but there was always the glimmer of hope.

Carlisle straightened and fixed his eyes on Baxter. "You don't understand, sir. We found _no_ fingerprints of DS Thompson whatsoever. There were very few of DS Henchard, mainly on the driver's side door handle, the gear stick and the steering wheel. There were none of DI Hardy or their daughter. Someone wiped that car clean which is a bit unusual for a quick smash and grab."

Baxter cocked his head, a puzzled expression creeping onto his face. "What are you trying to imply?"

"The stereo was also removed very carefully as if not to damage the interior. From what we can tell from the timing between the alarm going off and DS Henchard reaching her car, it could have been possible to take the stereo, but it's very hard to believe there was enough time to wipe down the whole car. And DC Swenson here questioned the hotel staff _very_ carefully about the order of events."

Baxter shot a surprised glance at a blushing Swenson and then locked eyes with MacMillan.

"Are you suggesting DS Henchard and DS Thompson are lying?" MacMillan asked, her voice cold as ice.

"Ma'am, we're not suggesting anything. That is your department. We can only tell you what possible conclusions we can draw from the evidence we see," Smith spoke up for his team. "Is a smash and grab a plausible explanation? Definitely. Does the evidence leave room for another explanation? Absolutely."

MacMillan's jaw clenched and her eyes were ablaze. Baxter wouldn't want to be in Tess' or Thompson's shoes when she was going to talk to them this afternoon. But then they deserved everything they had coming their way.

Baxter took in a deep breath. The next part of this conversation wasn't going to be easy.

"We didn't only call you into this office to discuss the report. Chief MacMillan and I need your cooperation with this matter at hand. I would ask for you to hear me out first before commenting or posing questions," Baxter began the painful process.

"All of you know what happened last Thursday. DS Henchard and DS Thompson took the evidence and stopped at the hotel where the pendant was taken. I will share with you what we will put in the official report and what I will tell CID staff. I will also explain to you why I, Chief MacMillan and DI Hardy hope for your understanding. We can't force you to go along with it and we won't try, but we'd urge you to."

The three men and Swenson exchanged uneasy glances.

Baxter was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He'd gone over his speech, but now that he was attempting to seal the deal he'd made with Hardy, it seemed almost unbearable.

"DI Hardy is the SIO on this investigation. As such he feels very strongly about taking the responsibility for what happened." He paused when all four of them gasped.

Carlisle crossed his arms over his chest, Smith's mouth gaped open, Swenson turned bright red and Burke blurted out what all of them were thinking. "That's utter horseshit. Why on earth would he do that? He wasn't even there."

Baxter squirmed in his seat. He tugged on his shirt collar. There was sweat pooling on his forehead. He hated having to do this. "You've all worked with him. He always stands up for his team and takes accountability for team members' actions. He –"

"He clearly is not accountable for his wife cheating on him and fucking up the case while doing so," Burke interrupted Baxter, anger reverberating in his words. Baxter suppressed a cringe and finally ripped off the top button of his shirt.

Smith put a calming hand on Burke's shoulder. "Jimmy, I don't know what DI Hardy's reasons are, but maybe we should hear CS Baxter out." Smith's eyes bore through Baxter who felt trapped. Either he was going to tell them the truth and betray Hardy's confidentiality or he was going to lie to them and betray their trust in him.

"Ed, I think you need to give them full disclosure. They deserve to know if we want them to work with us," MacMillan said quietly but with conviction.

Baxter rubbed the bridge of his nose and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked into their expectant eyes and made a decision. He'd deal with Hardy later. The moment to admit the truth to himself had come.

"DI Hardy is seriously ill. It is unlikely that he will return to lead this team. His desire to take responsibility for what happened stems from the wish to protect his daughter from the fall out that her mother's mistake will cause. He especially feels the need to do so as he might not be able to take care of his daughter in the future. By taking the blame publically, his daughter and his wife can be kept out of the spotlight," he finished hoarsely.

He watched their faces change. Swenson was crying, Smith was shocked, Burke was livid, and Carlisle unreadable.

"But that's stupid," Burke blurted out.

"No it's not," Carlisle disagreed quietly. "I'd try to do anything to make sure my kid's taken care of if needed. Wouldn't you, Alvin?" he addressed his friend and longtime colleague. Smith nodded wordlessly, but Burke wasn't buying it.

"You guys are nuts. He wants to protect the very people who are responsible for the shit that happened because he thinks he might not be able to take care of his kid? It's not like he's dying."

Baxter couldn't hold back a choked noise. Burke's head snapped around and he stared at him with wide eyes. Baxter couldn't say it. However, to his surprise Swenson apparently could. Her tears were gone and her face was stern with determination.

"Jimmy, have you seen DI Hardy in the past weeks?" The young man shook his head. "He's been ill for a while and I believe what CS Baxter is trying to tell us is that he might not survive whatever disease he has. He's been in hospital since Friday," she revealed softly. Burke's mouth gaped open and Smith's fingers dug into the younger man's shoulder. Carlisle slowly moved his head up and down.

"That explains a lot. Thought he didn't look so hot these days. I blamed it on the stress of the case, but I guess I was wrong," Carlisle thought out loud. "Sir – ma'am," he turned to both of his superiors and continued, "If you want my confidentiality, you have it. I trust that you're doing the right thing. And I've always respected DI Hardy and what he stands for. I'll gladly help." The words were spoken with a sincerity that touched Baxter deeply.

"Same for me," Smith fell in line. He turned his attention to his younger colleague. "Jimmy?" Burke could only nod, a sign of how shaken he was.

Baxter's gaze wandered over to Swenson. She had been staring at her lap, fidgeting with some imaginary dust on her skirt. She looked up and her watery eyes were so sad that it was hard to take. "I'll do whatever you need me to," she muttered, her voice shaky.

MacMillan sighed in relief. "Thank you for your cooperation. Needless to say that this conversation has to stay in this room. I would ask you to submit the report about the break-in directly to me so I can deal with it properly. CS Baxter will make his announcement shortly. I want to assure you that DS Thompson and DS Henchard will have to answer for their actions, even if the public knowledge of this case will be somewhat...," – she hesitated for the briefest of moments – "... limited. DI Hardy will be very grateful when he learns of your support," she ended quietly. Their task was done.

There was a shuffle and the group slowly filtered out of Baxter's room. MacMillan stayed behind.

"He owes you, Ed. Big time."

Baxter looked into her unfathomable eyes. "I don't think he'll get a chance to make good for his debt," he stated glumly. He leaned heavily onto his desk and clasped his hands.

"Let's hope, he'll surprise all of us," she replied and brushed her fingers over his shoulder. "It's time to make your announcement," she reminded him. He groaned and passed his fingers over his face.

MacMillan's lips curled up into a small smile. Baxter squinted at her. "If you tell me again, it was me that wanted to hire him, I don't know what I'll do," he growled, utterly exasperated.

She chuckled and held out her hand to help him up. "You might have wanted to hire him, but it was me who made the final decision. I don't regret it."

Baxter took her hand and moved his tired body. "Thank you, Liz. He owes you too. And so do I."

She huffed and hurried out of his room. Baxter grinned. Apparently her soft spot for Hardy was rubbing off on him. He'd take that as a first installment on Hardy's debt.

* * *

Baxter's eyes wandered over the faces in front of him. On paper it might be his team, but in reality it was Hardy's. He had carefully picked each and every one of them and for the most part he had chosen wisely. There had never been any major issues until last week when Hardy's judgment was put into question by the one person in his life he would have never expected it from. It was maddening.

Baxter shoved all anger aside. It wouldn't help him, he needed to stay calm and composed. He couldn't hesitate or falter, if they wanted this to work out.

"Thank you everyone for your hard work these past weeks. This team has worked together exceptionally well under great pressure. And your diligence and persistence was rewarded with apprehending the guilty party. Our suspect Lee Ashworth was arrested last week and charged in connection with the murder of Pippa Gillespie and the disappearance of Lisa Newbery."

Baxter paused. There was a wave of excitement going around the room. He let them have the brief moment of taking pleasure in their accomplishment. Swenson was staring at him with glassy eyes. Her usually happy face was stern and she looked older than she had last week. Baxter kept his gaze fixed on her.

"Normally, DI Hardy would be the one to make this announcement. He can't be here today, but he would be proud of his team," Baxter continued slowly. His eyes met Swenson's. Anger and sorrow were battling in them, and finally sorrow won. She dropped her gaze and hid her tears behind her long blond hair.

"As many of you are aware, we had a major breakthrough in the investigation this past Thursday. A search of Lee Ashworth's car produced a vital piece of evidence – Pippa Gillespie's pendant that she wore on the day she was killed."

There was an excited murmur in the crowd and many people smiled, enjoying what they thought was fantastic news. MacMillan who had been observing had stepped up to his side. It was time. He couldn't put it off any longer. The moment to destroy Hardy's career had come. He silently asked whoever was out there and willing to listen for forgiveness and proceeded to tell the whitest lie that he'd ever told.

"I am sorry to inform you that this piece of evidence was stolen out of a detective's civilian car and is not in police custody any more." The excited murmur turned into a louder chatter of disbelief and frustration. Baxter tried to shut it out as much as possible, fixing his eyes somewhere at the back of the room.

"Who's car was it?" an angry voice asked over the commotion.

Baxter hesitated for the briefest of moments. His hand fisted into his trousers. And at the very last moment, he knew he couldn't do it. He dropped his gaze to the floor and closed his eyes. They snapped open when he heard Liz MacMillan's voice right next to him.

"DI Hardy as the senior investigating officer will take full responsibility for the loss of the pendant. The car in question is registered under his name. He has been placed on leave," she stated bluntly.

The room fell dead silent. A row of stunned and incredulous faces stared back at Baxter and MacMillan.

"DI Hardy wasn't even at the search. His wife and DS Thompson took the pendant from where it was found back to the station. How can he be responsible?" someone asked. Baxter's head whipped into the direction the question had come from. He had no idea who had posed it.

"That is correct. DS Henchard and Thompson were initially in the possession of the pendant," MacMillan conceded carefully.

"And then what happened?" another question came. Baxter cursed Hardy and his shit plan. So much for not needing to explain the how and why. Hardy should have known his team better. They wouldn't swallow this easily. Not the least because they were _loyal_ to him. A simple explanation of stating he was the senior officer and would take the blame wasn't good enough, just as Baxter had feared.

MacMillan shot Baxter a glare, prompting him to involve himself. He cleared his voice and embarked on the harebrained explanation they had come up with.

"DS Henchard notified DI Hardy of the find. On the way back to the station DS Henchard and Thompson stopped in a hotel. The evidence was left unattended in the car and was subsequently stolen." Baxter stuck to what they had agreed upon to document in the case file which obviously didn't put Hardy anywhere near that pendant.

"So they fucked up. How does that make DI Hardy responsible then?" someone argued defiantly. Others seconded the question.

Baxter had a choice. Either he couldn't give them a full explanation, and let the disgruntlement fester, or he could tell them what happened. Or he could lie.

"DI Hardy is taking responsibility because it happened under his watch. Ultimately, he has to answer for all of your actions. He's your boss. That's how chain of command works and that's all the explanation you need," MacMillan answered, putting all her authority into her words.

"So he's going to be blamed for something he didn't do?" "How's that fair?" "This is fucking stupid. Tess and Dave messed it up not him." "No, you don't get it. He's protecting his wife. I've always said he's favoring her." "Does that mean Ashworth is going to walk?" "Don't you see that they are hiding something?" "Do you really think we are going to buy this bullshit? "How could they be so irresponsible?" "Are they getting punished?" "Is Hardy getting punished?" "Where the fuck is Hardy anyway?"

The room erupted into a heated argument and Baxter could see factions forming slowly. There were the ones who felt it was unjust for Hardy to be blamed even if he was the supervising officer, there were the ones who complained about favoritism, and then there were the ones that clearly figured out that this wasn't the full story.

"Quiet!" MacMillan shouted after she had given the team a few minutes to vent. Everyone stopped and stared at her.

"I can see you all are very upset and shocked. Unfortunately, I don't really care about that right now. This is a police force and not a support group, and as such we have to conduct ourselves properly. This investigation is still ongoing and needs proper closure and proceedings. I expect every one of you to do their job. If I hear any – and I repeat _any_ – gossip about this, you will be held accountable for it. Nothing goes out to the press, do you hear me?" She paused, waiting for the crowd's acknowledgment. She wasn't done yet though.

"Rest assured, I will know if you talked because besides the people in this room no one knows about what happened. If we want to stand any chance of a proper trial against Ashworth, you all need to keep your mouths shut. You owe it to the families to uphold police standards and give them at a least a chance to receive justice for their loved ones. CS Baxter will take over the lead and everything goes through him from now on. Nothing – absolutely nothing – that was said here today leaves this room. Have I made myself clear?"

Even Baxter was intimidated by the fierceness and authority that was exuding from Liz MacMillan. The crowd murmured a collective yes. Many faces were angry, others were subdued and a few were sad. Baxter's gaze searched for Swenson. Her expression was unreadable and her usually bright eyes were clouded. She was the first to storm out when MacMillan finally released them. Baxter let her go, wishing he could follow her and run away from it all.

Things had been set in motion and time couldn't be turned back. Baxter's only hope was that one day, the truth would come out and people could understand what Hardy really did out of love for the one person that meant more to him than everything else in his life.

* * *

Hardy stirred. His mind was slowly coming back from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. His eyelids were heavy and they fluttered shut again as soon as he had opened them.

"DI Hardy?"

A soft voice filtered through his consciousness. It was vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place it.

"Sir? Are you awake?"

Hardy forced his eyes open. When things racked into focus, DC Swenson's worried face greeted him.

"Swenson?" he moaned. "What the hell are you doing here?" His face heated up with embarrassment and so did hers.

"Erm... thought I'd come by and say hello. Figured you might be bored," she said insecurely.

He squinted at her and nervously tugged on his blanket. He didn't want to think about how woefully unprofessional he looked right now.

"Why do you even know I'm here?" he asked, puzzled and slightly annoyed. "Did Baxter –"

"No, sir," she interjected quickly. She bit her lip and fidgeted with the seam of her blouse. "CS Baxter didn't tell me much. I saw..." She hesitated and looked up. "I saw the surveillance tape, the one from CID. The night you and your wife came to the office. I also saw what happened the next morning. When CS Baxter took you to the hospital."

Hardy's mouth fell open. _For God's sake_ – there was a bloody tape of the worst night of his life. And she had seen it. Whereas he could barely remember anything of what she talked about. It was infuriating.

"Fuck," he grunted, utterly frustrated and feeling out of control.

"I'm sorry, sir," she apologized sincerely. "I didn't want to intrude. I only looked at it because of the missing penda –"

"What?" he croaked. _Unbelievable_ , this was getting worse by the second. His eyes bore into her. She steadily held his gaze, something else shining through.

"Sir, it is done. CS Baxter and Chief MacMillan told the team," she stated quietly.

He stared at her wide-eyed. "What did you say?" He had to be sure. He propped his body up on his shaky arm and leaned closer toward her.

"They told the team that the pendant was lost and that you would take responsibility for it," she explained with a flat voice. He didn't notice that her eyes were glittering.

He fell back onto his pillow, suddenly all tension gone from his tired body. A wave of relief washed over him, taking his defenses with it. He closed his eyes and sucked in a few shuddering breaths. Soon enough they turned into violent sobs. He draped his arm over his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide his emotions.

"She's going to be fine, she's going to be fine," he repeated over and over again, his voice hoarse from crying.

A warm hand came to rest on his arm, and he remembered he wasn't alone in the room. Peering out from under his elbow, he looked at Swenson. Her face was puffy and tear stained. He moved and she quickly pulled her hand away.

Their eyes met and that was all Hardy needed to see. She knew. How, he had no idea, but the sorrow that looked back at him said it all.

"It's all right, Swenson. I'll be fine. Please don't be sad because of your grouchy bastard boss," he soothed with his Scottish lilt turned soft. It was hard to see her like this. He didn't want her to be sorry for him, he wasn't worth it and he said so. He didn't quite expect her reaction.

"You know what, you _are_ a fucking grouchy bastard," she exploded in his face. "How can you say _that_? How can you say that you're not worth being sorry for? You're one of the bravest and most honorable men that I know and yet, here you are, being all stupid and a total fucking moron –" She suddenly stopped, her face turning pale. She swallowed hard and her eyes were so wide they almost popped out of their sockets. There was an awkward moment of silence. Hardy stared at the ceiling tiles, not sure how he should react.

"Did I call you stupid and a moron?" she asked, utterly mortified.

Hardy suppressed a grin. "Yup."

"And a bastard?" she added.

"A fucking grouchy bastard, to be precise," Hardy corrected her, biting down on his lip.

"Right," she expelled together with a deep sigh.

"Just as well then that I'm not coming back anytime soon," Hardy stated sarcastically. He hoped to lighten the mood, but he'd accomplished the contrary. This time, it was her who completely lost composure. Big tears flowed down her cheeks and her shoulders shook with her violent sobs.

They had switched roles. Hardy realized it was his turn to provide comfort. Too mortified by the prospect he froze. If it had been Daisy, he'd hug her, but he was Swenson's boss. Words seemed so inadequate, but they were all that he had.

"Please, don't cry. I'm not dead yet," he tried to joke. To his surprise, it worked. She breathed in hard and calmed down some.

"That's not funny," she growled, shooting him a sideways glance.

"Seriously, Swenson? For my standards that's an outstanding effort at humor. You should give me credit for that. How can you be so cruel to a dying man?" he continued teasingly.

"Ach, sir. Stop it. You're too ghastly," she complained, her tears gone. Hardy's lips curled up to a small smile.

"You're not crying any more. That's all that matters," he said gently. His kind gaze rested on her, content that she was better. Her wide eyes looked back at him and he had no idea what was going on behind them.

"Sir, this might be a bit weird, but can I give you a hug?" she asked, bright red in her face.

Hardy was flabbergasted. "Why would you wanna do that?"

"Because I think you could use one and I'm not sure if someone gave you one since you've been in here," she explained matter-of-factly. He had to admit, there was some truth to it.

"In everyone's defense, I do have two broken ribs and that thing coming out from my neck," he said, not letting her out of his sight.

"Oh," she breathed.

A hug would be nice, he thought longingly. She was his subordinate though. And a woman. A much younger one on top of everything else. They looked at each other.

"Swenson, it's not a good idea. I'm your boss and –"

"Can you sit up?" she interrupted him with a new confidence in her voice.

"Erm... sort of," he said insecurely.

"Go on then. I'll help you," she encouraged him. He clumsily pushed himself up onto his elbows, and by the time she had pulled him up he was already in her arms. He panted and groaned in pain, but she didn't let go, until he relaxed against her body. She was warm and smelled of grapefruit and summer. When she embraced him gently, he forgot that this was utterly unprofessional and clearly breaching all rules of conduct. He wrapped his arm that wasn't hooked up to IVs around her back.

"Thank you, Swenson," he mumbled, his tired head resting on her shoulder.

"It's Annie, sir," she said.

"Thank you, Annie. And you don't need to call me sir any more," he added, trying desperately to hide the sadness in his voice.

She gently pushed him away so that she could look him in the eye. "I'm going to keep calling you sir because it means something to me. It means that you will be back and I don't want to stop thinking that," she admitted, a tear running down her cheek.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand. "All right. Sir it is then."

He said the words to give her hope, but oddly enough, they did the same for him. And with that tiny glimpse of hope, his body went limp and he couldn't hold himself up any longer. He slumped heavily onto her, too weak to even move the tiniest bit. Swenson's face swam out of focus and his mouth was like cotton when he tried to speak.

Swenson moved around him, put her arm under his lolling head and gently placed him back on his pillow. "Your daughter is safe. You don't need to fight any more. Time to sleep, sir."

He couldn't make out her face, but the warmth in her voice soothed his frayed mind. His eyes closed. No more fighting. Daisy would be fine. His heart could finally rest.

* * *

 **A/N:** The last scene with Annie Swenson is dear to my heart... it's dedicated to IS who will never read this but who knows what it means to get a hug at the right time. Thanks for everything you've done for me!

About the car break-in... so, this was one of the last big puzzles to address... because as some of you might remember when Hardy talks to Olly and Maggie in S1 he clearly states everything was taken, including car stereo etc, but when we see it happen in S2 all that was taken was the plastic bag with the pendant. The next chapter will deal with this as well and later in OBS it will come up also. I have thought about this for a long time and I know other stories who were farther along in the timeline of the show have given their version of the events. There might be similarities, but only because we came to similar conclusions (frankly there are not that many options to explain it if you chose to do so).


	40. CHAPTER 39

**A/N:** Thanks everyone who is still around reading this saga... we are getting closer to where this part will end, but not quite yet. Thanks you, HAZELMIST, for the insanely fast turnaround of this chapter... I owe you a lot and then some more. We can join Liz in yelling at Tess and Dave... and then there is Duncan ;-)

* * *

 **CHAPTER 39**

Liz MacMillan's piercing eyes didn't leave the two detectives in front of her. She had debated if she wanted to see them together or separately, but in the end had decided to deal with them at the same time. She had also invited CS John Fairbanks, the head of their local Directorate for Professional Standards. It wasn't an official hearing, but there was no way she'd have that conversation without him around.

"DS Henchard, DS Thompson, you both know CS Fairbanks." All three nodded at each other.

Hardy's wife was holding her head high whereas her lover – MacMillan spat the word even in her thoughts – was a pitiful display of misery. MacMillan straightened out their personnel folders in front of her. Her hand absentmindedly found a pencil to play with. She took her time to let them steep in their anticipation.

"I want to preface this with stating that this is not an official hearing of internal affairs. That will come later after a thorough investigation can take place. I did have to meet with you today though to inform you of the arrangements that are being made for your respective transfers," she began.

Thompson's head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Transfer?"

Tess stayed calm, her face unreadable. It dawned on MacMillan that she hadn't shared Baxter's plan with Thompson.

"Yes, detective sergeant, a transfer. What did you think was going to happen? A promotion?" she said sharply. It had slipped her tongue before she could hold back. She cursed herself for letting her emotions shine through her usually tight grip. _Bloody Alec Hardy_.

"I didn't really...," Thompson mumbled and then fell silent under MacMillan's glare.

She was losing her patience quickly. "Let's not beat around the bush here. The two of you majorly fucked up. And I see myself forced to use this kind of language as there are no proper words to describe my utmost disgust for what you have done. I've been in the force for over three decades and I've seen many officers getting it on, married ones and unmarried ones. It doesn't matter. It generally ended in issues of favoritism and bad mouthing each other if it went bad. That's not what bothers me." She took in a deep breath, tightly gripping that pencil.

"But the degree of lapse of professionalism and breach of all standards of conduct that the two of you have displayed is in a different league. You left evidence – worse, evidence that you knew to be crucial to your case – unattended in a public parking garage while you had sexual intercourse," she continued full of contempt.

Their faces had turned red. Thompson was huddled in on himself and Tess had finally dropped her cocky demeanor, hanging her head in shame. MacMillan shot a glance to Fairbanks who seemed to be enjoying the show. With a nod, he gave her the go ahead to proceed with what he knew she needed to say. She hadn't even started yet. She stood, walked around her desk and perched herself opposite them.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she shouted in their faces. They jumped and MacMillan picked up steam.

"I've asked around – this hasn't happened to any of the other Chief's in the region. I can't tell you how _disappointed_ I am in you." The word might have well been underscored by a slap on their now pale cheeks.

"And I'm really trying very, very hard to put my _anger_ aside. Nobody who works for me has ever done such a thing. You've not only broken every oath that you ever made as a police officer, you've not only violated the trust that these families and the society at large puts in you, you've not only let your whole team down, no - you have personally offended and insulted me with your disregard for all proper behavior," she threw at them. She had started pacing in circles sometime in the middle of her rant and she stopped right in front of them again. They hadn't moved, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Do you have anything to say for yourselves?" she demanded.

Thompson shook his head. But Tess looked up with a fire in her blue eyes. "Maybe if we had had proper leadership during this investigation, this wouldn't have been our only vital evidence," she challenged.

It took MacMillan a few heartbeats and measured breaths to get her voice back. The heated rage that had been burning in her turned to ice. She stepped up to face Hardy's wife.

"Are you implying that DI Hardy didn't do his job right? Because if you are, I would think twice about it. I've had enough time to take a careful look at this case since I heard about your unforgivable mistake. From what it looks like, he was the _only one_ who made a dent in the investigation and moved the case toward closure. I have no indication that either you or DS Thompson contributed anything meaningful. The only thing you did do was _destroy_ everything," MacMillan stated calmly.

"He was unfit for duty," Tess countered. "He wasn't present when we searched the car."

"Seriously? Do you need someone to babysit your every move? Are you that incompetent, DS Henchard, that you can't properly conduct a car search?" MacMillan spat at her.

Tess stayed quiet.

MacMillan expelled some air through her nose. "Not so cocky now, ey? Don't get me wrong. Do I think DI Hardy should have disclosed his health problems earlier? Yes. Do I think this unduly influenced this investigation? No."

"Oh, so he gets away with his usual bullshit whereas we get –"

"Oh, for God's sake, will you shut up," MacMillan yelled, interrupting Tess' self-righteous tirade. "Your husband, DS Henchard, is the _only_ reason why you're even sitting on this chair and not on the street," MacMillan snarled. "CS Baxter and I would have kicked you off the force immediately, if it hadn't been for his dying wish – " She stopped herself from revealing more than she already had when she saw Fairbanks' horrified look. Thompson's head whipped up and his incredulous gaze fixed on Tess.

"Tess? What's going on? You told me he has some health issues, but you never said he's _dying_ ," Thompson asked, apparently genuinely shocked.

Tess wasn't listening to him, locking eyes with MacMillan. The belligerent fire was gone, and to her surprise MacMillan saw sorrow looking back at her. "He didn't tell me. I never knew until it was too late," she said, a deep sadness reverberating in her voice. "I didn't want for this to happen. I didn't want to hurt him like this. He's a good man and I'm so sorry." A few tears ran down her cheeks.

MacMillan nearly believed her remorse. "If you're sorry, then why did you agree to his plan?" she asked quietly. She could forgive a broken marriage, she could forgive an affair, but what she couldn't forgive was the fact that this woman knowingly let her husband ruin his career and his life over her own mistake, dying wish or not. It was unredeemable.

Tess held her gaze, but didn't answer.

"I thought so," was all that MacMillan said, her disdain obvious in her cold voice. Tired of their faces, she sat back down behind her desk. There was one more thing she had to question them about.

She picked up one of the folders and showed it to them. "This is the forensics' report on the break-in of your car DS Henchard. Is there anything you would like to share with me before I tell you what I'm thinking?" she queried sharply.

Tess and Thompson exchanged a quick glance which was confirmation enough for MacMillan.

"Did you alter the crime scene before SOCO could take a closer look?" she demanded to know.

They didn't say anything.

"Answer me! Or so help me God, I'll throw you out on the street right here and now!" she shouted, finally losing her last shred of patience.

Tess lifted her eyes and dared to look at her furious Chief. "No."

MacMillan threw the folder on the desk and hit the wood hard with her hand. "Nonsense. Do you think I'm an imbecile? I can read a forensics' report. There were no fingerprints of DS Thompson in your vehicle. What happened to them? Who wiped down the fucking car? And don't you dare lie to me, because if you do it'll be the last thing you'll ever say in this room," she threatened.

"I did," Thompson spoke up for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. He couldn't make eye contact, but he continued to speak. "We panicked when Baxter told us he was sending SOCO over to look at the car. Whoever broke into the car only took the plastic bag with the evidence, nothing else. It made what happened look even worse. So we thought –"

"I don't think you were thinking at all," MacMillan interrupted him roughly. "You realize that you might have destroyed our only opportunity to find any clues who could have taken the pendant? This clearly wasn't a quick smash and grab, it was a deliberate act to gain possession of key evidence."

"Are you going to put that in the case file?" Tess questioned anxiously. MacMillan shot her a piercing glare. They both knew that if she did, the public version of things wouldn't hold up and nobody would believe that Hardy was to blame. They had reached a stalemate.

"I don't know yet. Maybe a better place would be your personnel files," MacMillan replied, enjoying Tess reddening angry face. She hadn't decided yet what to do with the information. Carlisle's full report could only be interpreted one way and she now had the admission in her hands. She hadn't decided yet if she was going to share it with Baxter who seemed to be getting too close emotionally. For now she'd keep it to herself, but she wasn't going to reveal that to them.

It was time to end this sorry charade. She sat up straight and proceeded with the official business.

"DS Thompson, effective as of May 15th 2012 you will be joining the uniformed forces in the rank of police constable. Until then you will be suspended and placed on unpaid leave." Thompson's face was stoic and he accepted his punishment with a nod.

"DS Henchard, effective as of May 15th 2012 you will be joining the 'Drug and Fraud' task force of South Mercia Constabulary in the rank of police constable. Until –"

"That's not what Baxter said. He said I'd stay detective," Tess interrupted her.

"That might have been what he said, but it's not his decision. Why should Thompson here be stripped off his rank and you shouldn't?" MacMillan challenged her. Tess pressed her lips together.

"Right. Both of you will lose your detective privileges. You may be eligible to be reinstituted at a later point in time, but that will be up to the DPS committee. For now this is what's going to happen. DS Henchard you are also suspended and put on unpaid leave until May 15th," MacMillan ended her sentencing. In her eyes, the punishment wasn't harsh enough, but she had agreed to go along with the plan and she'd honored the deal.

"You're dismissed," she barked and they couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Fairbanks stayed behind as she had expected him to.

"Now, that went well," he said sarcastically.

MacMillan huffed. "Don't start. I wanted to sack them but...," she trailed off.

Fairbanks plopped onto a chair and found her eyes. "Is he really dying? You could have warned me," he grumbled.

"It looks like it," she sighed.

"Since when did you turn all mushy, Liz?" Fairbanks teased her.

"Since the bloody wanker tried to die on me when I was talking to him this morning in the hospital," she admitted with a sheepish glance. She'd known Fairbanks since the academy.

"Liar. You've always had a soft spot for the obstinate git. I remember when you asked for my opinion when Baxter wanted to make him DI. You were all excited about the idea, but you were afraid your judgement might be clouded because you _liked_ him. You were so bewildered by the concept that you could like one of your subordinates. It was rather comical, to tell you the truth." Fairbanks grinned.

"Ach, stop it, John," she demanded weakly, smiling herself.

"It's all right, Liz. You know, you can be human too. No need to be the ice queen all the time. Hardy could use your support right now." He rubbed his hand over his balding head. "And I better start thinking about who I'm going to put on all those DPS committees. All three will need one. And Baxter too, you realize that?" he sighed. "What a mess. Did you talk to the CPS prosecutor?"

"Yeah. He was not amused to put it mildly. He's willing to uphold the charge and go for trial, but he has serious doubt about the outcome," MacMillan shared. Her ears were still ringing from the shouting that had taken place earlier today. Philippe Barnstein was one of the best barristers in the county, but even his talents had limits. He promised he'd try though. She couldn't hope for more. When she'd mentioned that her SIO might not be around for the trial, he'd almost lost it and had laid into her to make sure all his documentation was pristine. After her visit with Hardy earlier, she hoped that he'd been smart enough to put his affairs in order before going for that procedure. She made a mental note to have Baxter look into it.

"I'll schedule their hearings for the end of May. We'll see about Hardy. Did you suspend him as well?" Fairbanks wanted to know.

"No. Baxter had put him on medical leave for the day of the procedure and has never taken him off since then. I told the staff he was on leave, nothing further. It's up to their interpretation," she explained.

"Jesus. I really hope this isn't going to come and bite us all in the butt one day, more than it already has. If the press finds out, we're all in deep shit. I can see the headlines – Police hushes up major failure in murder case."

"We're not hushing anything up. Everything that is documented in the case file and the personnel files is correct. The responsible officers will be held accountable. And the dying boss will be made the scapegoat," she added sardonically.

"He wants that though, Liz. And you agreed to it," Fairbanks reminded her.

"I know," she groaned. "Doesn't mean I'm not mad about it."

Fairbanks shrugged. Then he stood, ready to leave. "You know, the three of you should probably think of a plan B."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked confused.

"What happens if he doesn't die? Have you thought about that?" he questioned, nodded at her, and left.

MacMillan's mouth gaped open. _Shit._ They hadn't. And knowing Hardy, he'd survive out of mere spite. They were screwed.

* * *

Baxter was walking over to the hospital. He'd thought the fresh air would be nice, but as soon as he heard his name being called by several people, he knew he had made a mistake.

"CS Baxter? Can you confirm that you've arrested a subject in the Sandbrook murders?"

"CS Baxter? Is it true that you've charged Lee Ashworth, the neighbor of the Gillespies?"

"CS Baxter? We heard through sources that you've taken over the investigation. Can you confirm and what are the reasons?"

He ignored all of them and kept his head down. In his mind he went over the best times to schedule an official press conference. He had to talk to MacMillan first and see what her conversation with the CPS prosecutor had yielded. They couldn't keep them at bay for much longer though. He successfully left them behind only to bump into Karen White around the corner.

"Oh, CS Baxter, just the person I hoped to see. I can't seem to get a hold of DI Hardy. He promised me an interview once you charged Ashworth. Where has he been?" Karen White asked, feigning innocence.

Baxter put all his effort into avoiding to look over to the hospital across the street. He would never forgive himself if he gave away what had happened to Hardy.

"Ms. White, correct?" He faked ignorance to buy himself some time. Of course he knew all too well who she was.

"Yes, Karen White with the Daily Herald. You're a bad liar, CS Baxter. I'm sure you've read my byline. The whole town has," she said with a smug smile. "So, where is Hardy? Or should I ask you instead about Ashworth? I heard a rumor that you have taken over the investigation."

Baxter remained silent. Better not to say anything, she'd twist around his words regardless of what came out of his mouth. She looked him up and down.

"Oh, so you're the silent type. Well, I can wait. But not for very much longer. Tell Hardy that if he doesn't talk to me by tomorrow, I consider our deal off and he'll have to see what happens next," she continued with a put on sweetness that sickened Baxter.

"Are you threatening me or DI Hardy? Because –"

Her laughter interrupted him. "You are all the same, CS Baxter. Always pulling the 'don't-threaten-the-police' card. It's rather disappointing, to be honest with you, that you can't think of something else. We could work together so _well_ , if you lot would be a bit more cooperative."

"Oh, like you did with DI Hardy? Digging out his past and scaring his child for no better reason than wanting to have a story. You disgust me. I have nothing to say to you," Baxter hissed and left her standing there. He walked quickly past the hospital, and only doubled back once he was sure that she hadn't followed him. If anyone could find out the truth about what had happened and ruin their plan, it would be that woman. Yet again he worried who was feeding her information from within the police force and he hoped that that person would keep their mouth shut.

* * *

On the way up to the cardiac ICU, he made an effort to relax his face and not to let any of his anxiety about the press show in his expression. There was no reason to put any more stress on Hardy. He wasn't expecting to be welcomed by rumbling laughter. And even less so by a nearly smiling Hardy.

"You must be Ed Baxter," a booming Scottish voice greeted him. "You know how I can tell? You've got that haggard 'I've-been-hanging-out-with-the-brooding-wanker-too-much' look on your face. He does that to people." Duncan stood and clasped an astonished Baxter's shoulder tightly.

"Seriously, Duncan? Did you have to say that?" Hardy complained, shooting a guilty glance at Baxter. Baxter scrutinized him. He looked better. His cheeks had some color and a weight seemed to have been lifted off of him. Baxter's eyes wandered to the monitor where a steady heartbeat crawled over the screen. A small smile crept onto his face.

"Alec, MacMillan and I –"

"I know. Swenson came by and told me," Hardy said quickly before Baxter could elaborate. His wide hazel eyes expressed his gratitude more than words ever could have. He reached out with his hand and Baxter took it. Hardy squeezed it firmly.

"Thank you," Hardy said sincerely and smiled for the first time in days.

"Now, now, Alec. Be careful. That smile could get stuck on your face and then what do we do?" Duncan teased. Hardy rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Did you tell him I was here?" Hardy questioned Baxter.

"Yup."

"Why?" There was enough exasperation in those three letters to last a lifetime.

"Because he needed to tell someone about your stupid idea," Duncan budged in.

Hardy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Again, why?"

"Because it's a shit plan and because you're a moron," Duncan continued insulting his oldest friend.

"Why don't you just leave? Don't you have your kids to take care of?" Hardy grumbled.

"Nope. Geena is more than happy to watch them while I get the pleasure of yelling at you. She told me to make sure to yell extra loudly," Duncan replied with a smirk.

"Ach," Hardy huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the ceiling tiles.

Baxter looked back and forth between the two. It was thoroughly entertaining. It seemed that Duncan had won.

"Ed, do you have my phone," Hardy asked out of the blue.

"Yeah, I do. Why?"

"Give it to me," Hardy demanded with a frown.

"What? No. You're not supposed to –"

"I don't care. It's a myth anyway. Mobiles don't do anything to the equipment. I need to get in touch with Daisy. I've never been out of touch for this long. We at least text, even when I'm at work," Hardy explained.

"Alec, I'm not going to –"

"Ed! Phone! Now!" Hardy barked, holding out his hand. It trembled slightly.

"Fine." He fished the mobile out of his pocket and slapped it into Hardy's palm.

Hardy greedily pulled it closer and squinted at the screen. "Fuck. Where are my glasses?" he muttered, utterly annoyed.

Baxter had no idea and he said so. Hardy cursed and tossed the phone onto the blanket. Baxter picked it up.

"Do you want me to –"

"God, no. I'm not going to have you send fake messages to my daughter," Hardy refused with horror.

"You might not have a choice," Duncan chimed in, an amused smile on his face.

"Ach, stop being a smart arse and help me find the bloody glasses instead," Hardy threw back at him.

Eventually they found them in Hardy's suit jacket, smooshed and crooked from the chest compressions that had saved Hardy's life. Baxter suppressed a chuckle when Hardy put them on. He looked ridiculous, but happy when he could finally go over all the missed messages that Daisy had left.

* * *

Duncan pulled Baxter aside and out of the room, leaving Hardy to his task. As soon as they had stepped behind the curtained glass door, Duncan's face changed completely. Gone was the cheery demeanor and light-hearted expression, replaced by barely hidden shock and fear.

"Ed, what the hell happened to him? You told me he had a cardiac arrest. This is different. He looks like he's not only on, but well past death's doorstep," Duncan whispered frantically.

"What did you think _'he's dying'_ meant? Did you think I was joking?" Baxter hissed back, glaring at him with his steely eyes.

"Well, he does get a wee bit dramatic at times," Duncan sighed.

"A bit? Do you have _any_ idea what he has done to me in the past days?" Baxter was close to losing his composure again.

Duncan squinted at him. "No, and by the look of you, I don't think I want to."

"Ha! You wanna know what happened to him? I'll tell you," Baxter blurted out. There was no holding back now. "It's not only his god damn heart stopping at any given moment. Oh, no. It gets better. He pulled out his central line from his neck because he wanted to escape, the bloody idiot. He was bleeding to death right in front of me. I was literally sitting in his fucking blood, for crying out loud. He did that _after_ he'd said he didn't want to live any more. And then every time he made me talk about that shit plan of his he tried to die on me. _Every. Single. Fucking. Time."_ Baxter panted and stared at Duncan with wild eyes.

Duncan took a step closer, put his large arm around Baxter's shaking shoulders, and said, "Told you, a wee bit dramatic. He used to recite Hamlet in his nightdress at school. He'd stolen the skull from the science lab. Always going for the angst. I guess he still does."

Baxter's mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Hardy was wearing a nightdress as a lad?"

Duncan raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Aye."

"And he stole a bloody skull?"

"Well, it wasn't bloody. More like old and dusty. Might have been some sort of monkey and not even human."

"Wee Alec Hardy was reciting Hamlet in a nightdress with a monkey skull?"

Duncan nodded vigorously. Baxter tried to shake the image of a forty-something-year-old Alec Hardy in a hospital gown, clinging onto the IV pole and muttering "To be or not to be". He couldn't and somewhere deep inside him laughter grew until it burst out and shook his whole body, tears welling up.

When he had settled down, Duncan was eyeing him with a serious face.

"Now, that we've got that out of your system, would you care to elaborate on what you said about that he doesn't want to live any more? Because frankly, that scared the shit out of me."

Baxter sobered up quickly. "He didn't try to kill himself, if that's what you're thinking. But his doctor and I both believe that he's not in a good place right now. And –"

"That's the understatement of the year. Not in a good place? Are you listening to yourself? He's so ill that he might die soon, his wife is cheating on him, the case that's been haunting him after he pulled a dead girl out of a river and almost drowned is entirely screwed up, and you say he's not in a _good_ place? He's in fucking hell, that's where he is, and that's probably putting it mildly."

Duncan was fuming.

"I've known him since we were teenagers. That man in there..." – he stabbed his finger at the glass door – "... isn't the man I know. He's broken, a shadow of his former self, and ready to snap any minute. I couldn't get him to look at me for the first hour I was in there. I had to yell at him to acknowledge I was there and that he better talk to me before I slapped him. I saw him three weeks ago at my wedding, he was dancing with his daughter and now look at him! He can't even sit up without falling over, he's so weak. It's killing me to see him like that. I..." Duncan's voice finally broke and ended his desperate rant. Angry tears moistened his fiery green eyes and his lips were quivering.

Baxter dropped his gaze. "I know," was all he could get out.

"I want to kill her," Duncan pressed through gritted teeth.

Baxter couldn't look at him.

"I get now why you said you can't go along with this fucking insane plan of his. I better not bump into Tess anytime soon because I'm not sure what I would do to her," Duncan continued to vent his fury.

"It's not about that though. Remember what you said? It's about supporting Alec. Believe it or not, he looks better, like he's relieved. More at peace. He had to do this. I can't do anything else to help him, but I at least could do that," Baxter said quietly, finally finding the courage to look at Duncan.

Duncan took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Fuck." He kicked the floor.

"Has he talked to you? I mean really talked?" Baxter wanted to know.

Duncan shook his head. "No. I couldn't get anything out of him besides the fact that he needs to protect Daisy."

Baxter nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's even more closed off than usual. It worries me that he's shutting everyone out. He opened up a bit with Emily, his doctor, but not really."

"He might simply need time. It's hard for him to express what's going on behind those eyes. He was never any good at it," Duncan sighed.

"No shit," Baxter commented and joined in on the sigh.

They looked at each other, two men united by the worry over their friend.

"Can you promise me something, Ed? Don't leave him alone. Don't let him go off and brood. That has never resulted in anything good. I know what I'm talking about. Please," Duncan pleaded.

"I won't. But you know how he is. If he gets stubborn about it, I can't get to him. I'll try my best though. I promise," Baxter vowed.

"That's all I want. And I will do my part," Duncan stated with a nod. "Should we go back inside? He's had enough time to play with his phone."

Baxter agreed. When they opened the door, they were greeted by the sight of a peacefully sleeping Hardy, one hand fisted around the mobile, the other slung around a pillow. He had a faint smile on his face.

"You think Daisy is going to fix him?" Baxter wondered aloud.

"If anyone can fix him, then it's her," Duncan replied hopefully.

"It's a steep task for that little girl," Baxter voiced what they were both thinking.

"Aye. But she's got his stubborn soul. If they stick together, they'll get through it," Duncan reaffirmed his belief.

"Can you stay a bit longer? Maybe he'll talk to you." Baxter could use an ally.

Duncan smiled and tucked the blanket tighter around Hardy. "I'll stay. You go deal with your investigation and the fall out. I'll stay with the bloody idiot."

"Thanks Duncan. I owe you."

"No, Ed. You've done so much already. You don't owe anything. If anything, I owe you for taking care of him. He's like a brother to me and if I had lost him...," he trailed off, his face full of sorrow again.

Baxter placed his hand on Duncan's back. "He'll make it. He's too stubborn to die."

Duncan huffed. "If that's so, you better come up with a plan B."

"A plan B? What's that supposed to mean?" Baxter was confused.

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Have you thought about what happens if he doesn't die?"

Baxter's mouth gaped open. _Shit._ They hadn't. And knowing Hardy, he'd survive out of mere spite. They were screwed.

* * *

 **A/N:** About the pendant theft... I thought about the inconsistency in the show for a long time and how I wanted to approach it. This is what I came up with. It will be addressed again in OBS... I hope for now it's satisfying enough. It was a tough one to address (and either Chibnall is going to have a brilliant explanation for it or someone should get yelled at for not picking up on it).


	41. CHAPTER 40

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone for your support! The opening paragraph is dedicated to anyone who's ever been hospitalized – you might be able to share Hardy's pain. Alec has some serious conversations...

* * *

 **CHAPTER 40**

Hardy was exhausted. However, it had nothing to do with his diseased heart, but everything with the sleep deprivation torture the hospital practiced. It started at 1:23 A.M. – he had kept track – when an overly enthusiastic house officer felt the urge to poke his head in during his night rounds. Then he'd been woken up at 3:04 A.M. because the nurse needed to check his blood pressure and temperature. At 4:49 A.M. a different nurse came to take blood from him. Not even an hour later, at 5:37 A.M., the cleaning lady almost sent him into cardiac arrest when she knocked over a trash can, startling him from his slumber. The surgeons rounded at 5:53 A.M., prodding the healing wound on his neck. The ICU doctors were their usual unorganized selves – first the medical student traipsed in at 6:12 A.M., the junior house officer followed at 6:26 A.M., and then the whole team made an appearance at 7:01 A.M. By the time breakfast arrived at 8:49 A.M., Hardy was ready to murder the well-meaning nurse who woke him yet again. He spewed and yelled at her until the head nurse came and tried to put him in his place.

That had been the final straw. Hardy and his feeble heart lost it. It ended up with the code team knocking over his breakfast tray and spilling the abomination they called decaf tea all over his groin, Hardy swatting at the eager junior house officer who wanted to try out the defibrillator despite there being no need for it, and an angry Emily Abbott. She had walked into the chaos and was aghast at what was playing out in front of her. Hardy and the junior house officer both froze when they heard her stern "Stop it" and everyone stilled. There was a silent communication between the head nurse and Emily, and then everyone left as quickly as they had descended upon an exhausted Hardy.

"Alec, what is wrong with you?" she asked frustrated while she fixed his ECG leads.

Hardy eyed her from below, stubbornly refusing to answer.

"Seriously, why do you have to be like that? Nobody wants to harm you," she continued. She looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

"Could have fooled me," he mumbled and tried to sit up. "I want to leave," he demanded. He made it to the edge of the bed, his long bare legs dangling down. His back and neck ached, but it was the pain in his side caused by the broken ribs that made him fold in on himself. He choked on a cough and a hot angry jolt ran through his body. He didn't lie down though, holding on to the mattress with an iron grip.

Emily tilted her head. "If you can make it to the en-suite by yourself, I'll think about it." She stepped back from the bed, inviting him to demonstrate his abilities.

He managed to stand up. It was grueling and it lasted for forty-five glorious seconds before vertigo, the throbbing ache that shuddered through him, and gravity won. He might have fallen if Emily hadn't gently supported him. He lowered his beaten body back onto the bed. His head hung low in defeat.

"It's all right. That was a good attempt. Maybe today isn't the day. But we'll try again tomorrow, okay?" Emily encouraged him. Her soft words barely broke through the haze of pain, fatigue and anger at his weakness.

"Do you want to eat something? I can get them to bring more breakfast," she suggested with sympathy.

He passed a hand over his face. The prospect of hospital food certainly wasn't enticing. Regardless, reason won and he nodded submissively. Emily turned and nearly caused another spillage of hot beverages. Duncan had sneaked up on her, carrying a couple of paper cups and a food container.

"Thought he might try to make a run for it. I brought a bribe," Duncan announced and showed off what he had gotten Hardy for breakfast. Hardy's eyes grew wide. It was _real_ food. Their gazes met and Duncan's face lit up with a pleased grin. He put everything down and stuck out his hand to Emily.

"You must be Dr. Abbott. Duncan McCormick. We spoke on the phone a few weeks ago." He gave her his most radiant smile. Hardy squinted at Emily, confirming that she was indeed blushing. Hardy sighed. He had no idea, how his friend managed to evoke the same reaction in every woman he met. _'You had me at hello'_ took on a completely different meaning when one spent his awkward teenage years next to the most charming person in the whole of Glasgow.

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you. I'm glad you could make it. Alec could use some _company_." Emily had turned to shoot him a daggered glare. He rolled his eyes and resigned himself to staring at the ceiling tiles again.

"You mean he needs a babysitter," Duncan stated dryly. Hardy snorted. And Emily _giggled_.

 _Splendid._ Duncan had made yet another friend.

"Ach, for God's sake. Would you stop it? I'm not a child who needs someone to watch him," he grouched.

"That's in the eye of the beholder," Duncan commented sardonically.

They stared at each other, until Hardy looked away. He was too tired to battle it out with the one person who was even more stubborn than him.

Emily was observing them with amusement. A smile played around her lips. "You look better today, Alec. So does your ECG."

Hardy searched her face. She was genuinely pleased. When she noted his scrutinizing eyes, she nodded, and explained, "I switched around a few medications and it seems that this combination works better. The telemetry shows less episodes and an overall more stable rhythm. It's very encouraging."

"Might need that plan B after all," Duncan mumbled.

"What?" Hardy had no idea what his friend was talking about.

"Oh, nothing. Don't listen to me. Wanna eat?"

Hardy was sure Duncan was evading an explanation, but he didn't really care. His stomach growled and that scone that Duncan had brought made his mouth water. Duncan had placed the food container on his bedside table and Hardy reached for the delicious treat. Duncan slapped his fingers.

"Oh, no. Healthy food first," his friend admonished him, pushing over the yoghurt with fresh fruit.

"I'm not eating that," Hardy protested.

"It's that or the hospital food. Your choice." Duncan sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and arms. Then he smiled at Emily whose cheeks turned rosy again. "Maybe I should give the scone to your wonderful doctor here. I'm sure she could use a treat after all the stupid shit you put her through."

"What? No. But it's for me," Hardy blurted out. He turned crimson as soon as he realized how much he'd sounded like a little child.

Emily's clear laughter rang through the room. She stepped up to him, and resting her hand on him, she whispered in his ear, "I'd never steal your scone, Alec. Be a good boy and eat your growing food. Then you can have it." She smiled from one ear to the other, squeezed his shoulder, and then left the room.

Duncan's gaze followed her. "She's lovely. Where did you find her?"

"She found me," Hardy said softly. He picked up the plastic spoon and probed the yoghurt. It jiggled and Hardy shuddered.

"You know, it's not poison. It's a dairy product."

Hardy suddenly remembered the last time he'd had yoghurt. It had been with Daisy. His appetite was gone and he forcefully stabbed the spoon into the white wobbly mass.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Duncan prompted him, astutely picking up on Hardy's change of mood.

"No."

"Alec, I'm not going to leave here until you open your mouth and tell me what is going on behind your thick skull," Duncan growled.

"There is nothing to talk about." He shoved the table aside and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's not how this is going to work." Duncan had pulled up a chair and was right next to him. "I'm going to start asking questions, if you don't volunteer."

"Duncan, please," Hardy begged. He barely was holding it together and he was getting tired of being an inconsolable mess all the time.

"Why did you say you don't want to live any more?"

"I didn't say that," Hardy denied. Had he? He couldn't remember. What he did recall though was the despair when he had woken up to his new reality. And the wish that they would have let him go. No more pain.

"Alec, please. You know we have no secrets. I've been there and you – you pulled me away from that horrible place. Talk to me," Duncan pleaded with him. Hardy closed his eyes. Memories of a cold night over a decade ago flickered through his mind. A scared to death Geena, a crying newborn baby boy, a frantic search that ended on a bridge, and a sobbing Duncan who had been ready to end his life. Until Hardy had made him talk.

Keeping his eyes closed to extinguish the burning of his unshed tears, he began hesitantly, "I didn't say I don't want to live any more. But I wished they'd just let me go. My heart gave out, that should have told them something." He paused. "I have nowhere to go, Duncan. My home and my family were destroyed because of careless actions. She –" he broke off.

Duncan rested his strong hand on his arm. "Your family is not destroyed. Your marriage might be, but you still have Daisy. She's your home, always has been. From the moment you laid eyes on her."

"I can't take her with me. Not like this. I won't be able to care for her. What if I don't wake up one day and she's the one to find me? I can't do that to her. No, she has to stay with her mother," Hardy argued more with himself than with Duncan.

His friend frowned. "You really shouldn't think like that. Daisy will stay a part of your life as long as you don't push her away. I've seen you do that before when you're scared. I get it, this is an impossible situation, but you can't exclude her. I know you're doing what you think is best for her, but you can't forget about yourself. She wouldn't want that. What she would want is to take care of you."

"She's thirteen, Duncan," Hardy snarled, "She's not supposed to take care of me. I'm supposed to do that. I'm her _father_ , for crying out loud. _This... "_ \- he gesticulated wildly at the monitor and IV pumps filled with medications that were barely keeping him alive – "... is not supposed to happen. I should be the strong one, I should be there for her and not crippled by some obscure disease that no one has ever heard of. I can't even go to the loo by myself. You know how _embarrassing_ this is? I hate it. I hate being weak, I hate being dependent on people and drugs. I hate myself and I hate my bloody stupid heart for doing this to me. I just want it to be _over_." He spat the last word with so much loathing that it hurt.

Duncan didn't shy away from the furious onslaught. His hand tightened gently on Hardy's arm. "I would lie if I said I know how it feels. I can't, I'm not in your spot. But, Alec, you have to stop being so angry at yourself. It'll kill you. It's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong. We love you no matter how weak or ill you are. Daisy loves you no matter how –"

"But _she_ doesn't love me any more," Hardy repeated his wife's words.

Duncan fell silent. His hand gripped Hardy's arm firmly and Hardy could see the emotions warring on his face. His voice was flat in his effort to stay calm. "I'm so sorry. I –"

And for the first time in his life, Hardy observed his friend being at a loss for words. It was more telling than anything he could have said.

"It was all a lie. I should have listened to you years ago," Hardy whispered in anguish.

Duncan's head snapped up. His green eyes bore into Hardy. "No, Alec. It wasn't a lie. The two of you were in love, everyone could see that. She loved you, Alec. She really did. I remember how she used to look at you." He paused and Hardy realized he was fighting with himself over what to say next. "And then she stopped looking at you like that. Geena was the first to pick up on it. I didn't want to believe it, but then Tess came on to me and I was shocked. I told you, but you forgave her. I didn't think I should press the issue because you guys seemed all right. Daisy was growing into this beautiful girl and I thought maybe things would be fine. I saw you draw away from her because what had kept you close was fading away. You both lost each other and it breaks my heart."

Hardy listened to his friend, silent tears running down his cheeks. His words rang true and they cut deep. There was a tightness in his chest, choking him up, taking away the very air to breathe. No alarm rang because the pain in his heart had nothing to do with a condition that he could barely remember what it was called. The wound was gaping open widely and his life was pouring out of it. He was cold, deprived of a warmth he'd deluded himself into thinking he'd still been privileged to. He had been so wrong.

"How could I have not seen it, Duncan? I'm a bloody detective," he cried.

"Oh, Alec. I don't have the answer to that. But maybe if you're in love, it's engulfs you and you can't see anything else. You want it to be true and it's so hard to admit that it isn't. It's not what you wanted, and it's probably not what Tess wanted either. Doesn't make what she did better. She hurt you so much, in so many ways, and it's hard for me not to be furious with her. You're more than my friend, and seeing you so broken up over this is painful. I wish I could fix it, but I know I can't." Duncan smiled sadly at him and took his hand.

"But what I can do though is to promise you that I will be there for you, whatever the future holds. You're not alone. I love you and so does Geena. And from what I can tell, you have some people here who care deeply about you as well. I'm not asking anything of you but one thing. Don't push us away. Please?" Duncan's green eyes were imploring him. Hardy was stunned and unable to find the right words to express what he felt for his friend.

He nodded. And that was good enough for Duncan who knew him all too well.

"Now, eat your scone, you stubborn git," Duncan grumbled, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes. He pushed the bedside table back toward Hardy and shoved the container with the treat closer to him.

"Whatever happened to eating healthy foods first?" Hardy nagged as he reached for the pastry.

"I think you deserve a little leniency."

"Hm. I think I do," Hardy agreed, smiling, and bit into the crumbling scone.

When Duncan left a few hours later and took away the warmth he'd brought with him, Hardy couldn't have felt lonelier.

* * *

"He tried to leave," Emily greeted Baxter as soon as she saw him in the hallway.

"Ah, so do I win the bet then?"

"No way! He's still here. It only counts when he walks out of this hospital," Emily countered.

Baxter eyed her. "You know, it dawned on me that this isn't entirely fair. After all, you have the power to keep him here."

"Ha, good one. As if I could hold him back, once he can take a few steps." Emily's playful expression changed. "I wish you'd won, Ed. He was so defeated when he wasn't even able stand up for a minute."

"Is his friend still there?" Baxter wanted to know. His hopes were high for Duncan to get Hardy to talk.

"I think he might have left a little while ago." Emily shoved her hands into the pockets of her white coat and Baxter wondered what was on her mind.

"Emily? What's going on?" he prompted her.

"I wish he'd talk more about how it's affecting him," she said.

"The affair?" Baxter frowned.

"No, the fact that he has a life-threatening disease that will make him dependent on medication and technology for the rest of his life. He strikes me as someone who would struggle with that," she explained hesitantly.

Baxter nodded and scratched his chin. "Do you think he is still thinking about...?" He let the question hover unfinished. It hung between them, until she shook her head.

"I'm not sure," Emily shared her concern with a quiver in her voice.

Baxter inhaled deeply. He too had been worried about how Hardy who was such an independent and self-directed person would deal with this physical weakness and the dependence it created. Probably not well. And he was shutting everyone out.

"Ed, have you guys ever discussed what would happen with the case if he survives until he can get the pacemaker?" Emily's quiet words interrupted Baxter's thoughts.

His eyes snapped up to stare her down. "No. Because you told me, he's dying," he said sharply.

She ran her fingers through her hair, looking uncomfortable in her own skin. "I might have been a bit off with my prognosis," she mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Baxter nearly choked on the words.

"The new cocktail of medications seemed to have stabilized him more than I would have expected. He barely had any episodes in the last twenty-four hours and his rhythm is steady. I'd say he's in the best shape he's been in for weeks now."

Baxter's eyes grew wider. _Fuck_. It should have been good news, but in this situation it was a disaster. He fisted his hand into the smooth cloth of his trousers. Only Alec bloody Hardy could make him think something so absurd, that he was actually disturbed by the fact that Hardy might make it.

"Emily, what the hell? We don't have a plan B!" he exclaimed and started pacing up and down the hallway. "For fuck's sake, I should have never agreed to this insanity. Should have known that the bloody wanker would not die out of pure stubbornness."

Emily scrunched up her face in a pout. "Oh, I'm sorry for making him better," she said with the utmost sarcasm. She sounded hurt.

"See, what this moron does to me? I can't even be _happy_ that he seems to have a chance. Listen to me. I'm _complaining_ that he might not die." Baxter groaned in frustration and kicked the wall. Then he turned to a wide-eyed Emily.

"I'm sorry. Of course this is fantastic news. I can't express my gratitude enough for what you're doing for him." He placed a hand on her shoulder and sighed. "I guess I better start thinking of a plan B."

Emily smiled sadly. "Don't get too excited though. He's a bit more stable, but I have a suspicion this might also have something to do with the fact that his shit plan has been set in motion. He seems much less tormented since you did what you had to do."

Baxter huffed and started walking toward Hardy's room. "We both did what we said we would. You kept his ticker going and I tried to mend his heart. You get the better end of the deal. If he survives, you're the hero and I'm the fool. I'll take that though."

"You're no fool, Ed. You're a brave man to be Alec Hardy's friend," Emily said right before they entered. Baxter rolled his eyes and stepped through the door to face the man that was costing him his last nerve.

* * *

Said man was not in his bed.

"What the –" Baxter spun around and met Emily's flabbergasted face.

The monitor was off and the IV pumps were gone.

"If he ran, I will kill him," Baxter growled. He stepped up to the bed, placing a hand under the blanket. It was still warm. He couldn't be far.

Emily was inspecting the monitor, pulling up the latest recordings. It had only been a few minutes. "There is no way he could have run. We would have seen him. He –"

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Hardy wheezed behind them. Baxter jumped and Emily almost knocked Hardy over when she turned around quickly. They might as well have been facing a ghost, he was so pale. He was clinging onto the IV pole with the head nurse by his side.

"Marybeth, did you let him get up?" Emily asked in disbelief.

"He said, you gave him the okay," the head nurse answered. Her stern look made Hardy duck.

"Alec!" Emily exclaimed indignantly. "I didn't say that."

"You said, that if I can make it to the loo by myself, I can go home. So, I tried again. Mary..." He struggled with the name.

"Beth," Marybeth volunteered exasperated.

"Aye, I knew that," Hardy snapped and Marybeth rolled her eyes. "Marybeth here was kind enough and helped me with all the cables." He slowly lowered his body onto the mattress, expelling some air in pain. His face turned grey and his eyelids drooped. Emily's hand was on his wrist before he could pull it away.

Baxter watched her counting silently, too slowly for a normal heartbeat. He bit down on his lip and ignored the fact that despite whatever improvement Emily's treatments had yielded, Hardy was still so fragile that even a run to the loo could throw him off. The moment passed though. Baxter tried to see it as progress that this time Hardy only _nearly_ fainted.

He pulled over a chair and plopped down next to his panting friend.

"If you're going home tomorrow, I can give you a ride," he offered. He avoided asking him where he'd wanted to go.

Hardy gave him a blank stare. Then he passed a hand over his face. "I need to talk to Tess," he muttered, his eyes flicking around and searching for his phone.

"You might want to hold off on that," Baxter suggested carefully. Last he'd seen Tess was when she had stormed out of the building the day before, after MacMillan had had her conversation with them.

Hardy frowned at him. "Why?"

Baxter moved in his seat, crossing his legs. He didn't want to tell him, but Hardy's hazel eyes were burning through him and he wouldn't get out of answering.

"'Cause MacMillan had a word or two with her and Thompson yesterday. Tess didn't seem pleased with the outcome," Baxter revealed reluctantly.

"What did you guys do to her?" Baxter resisted the urge to slap Hardy in the face. The accusatory tone that was lacing his words was too much for Baxter to handle.

" _We_? We didn't do anything to her. She did all of this to herself," Baxter spat. "Need I remind you that she lost the key evidence in a double homicide? Maybe you already forgot what the true story is, Alec, but I didn't. She deserved everything that she had coming her way and more. She got off lucky because of you."

Hardy ducked his head. He looked miserable and Baxter felt bad that he had laid into him like that.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. Hardy looked up and shrugged.

"What was MacMillan's punishment?" he wanted to know. He sounded more tired than a minute ago.

"She sent her to 'Drug and Fraud'." Hardy sucked in a sharp breath. "And she stripped her of her rank as detective. Made her police constable again."

"That wasn't what we had discussed," Hardy interjected. There was a flare of annoyance in his eyes and Baxter cursed inwardly. Hardy's stubborn insistence on protecting his adulterous wife baffled him.

"MacMillan is the Chief. You should be glad that she went along with it and not complain. She wanted to fire both of them and so did I," he informed Hardy who studied his bare feet intently.

"Are you going to fire me?" Hardy asked quietly, avoiding Baxter's gaze.

That surprised Baxter. They hadn't discussed what was going to happen with Hardy, considering that they weren't even sure that he'd make it out of the hospital.

"Erm... you're still on medical leave," he replied slowly, buying himself some time.

"But are you going to discharge me from the police force?" Hardy insisted with a quiver in his voice. His eyes came up. Baxter was struck deeply by the sadness in them. Hardy lived and breathed being a detective. He had turned down promotions because he didn't want to be chained behind a desk. Working in the field, conducting the investigation, discovering the evidence, interrogating the suspects, putting the puzzle pieces together – that was what he loved more than anything.

Baxter leaned forward and put a hand on Hardy's knee that stuck out from under the gown. "Alec, don't worry about that. For now you're on medical leave. We'll talk about everything else once you're better."

"You didn't say you wouldn't," Hardy observed astutely. Baxter cursed his perceptiveness.

"I'm not going to lie to you. There will be DPS hearings – for all of us, including myself. I have no jurisdiction over their decisions. I want you to stay... if you can," he added gently.

Their gazes locked until Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose and pressed his long fingers on his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ed. For dragging you into this. I..." – he hesitated – "I didn't think about what it could mean for your career if you helped me out. I shouldn't have –"

"Don't worry about it," Baxter cut him off. "I could have said no. You're my friend, Alec, and friends in need are more important to me than a title." He snorted. "If I have to go back to doing house to house calls though, you do owe me one," he concluded with a healthy amount of sarcasm.

A wry smile played over Hardy's lips. "I can't quite picture you knocking on people's houses and asking them if they've seen any suspicious activity lately. Not your style."

Baxter grinned and helped Hardy to lie down. Pain and exhaustion were burrowing deep lines into his pale face.

Wearily, he asked, "Could you hand me my phone please?"

Baxter hesitated. "Are you sure you're up to talking to her?"

Hardy stared at the ceiling and didn't say a word. He held out his hand and Baxter placed the mobile in it.

"I could stick around, if you want me to," he offered. He meant to hide his worry, but regardless it had crept into his voice.

Hardy shook his head and found Baxter's eyes. "No. I have to do this on my own," he said with determination.

Baxter nodded. "Right. I understand. They can always get a hold of me if needed."

"Thank you, Ed," Hardy sighed and squinted at the display. His hand automatically went up to where his shirt pocket with his glasses would have been.

"Looking for these?" he said and dangled the crooked spectacles in front of Hardy. Snorting, Hardy snatched them out of Baxter's hand. He rolled his eyes at a grinning Baxter and put them on. His fingers swiftly typed a message. When the answer came promptly, he sighed in relief and his eyelids fluttered shut.

"She'll be here in a couple of hours." Fatigue made his tongue heavy.

"Why don't you try and rest until then?" Baxter suggested. Hardy was already half asleep. Baxter shot a last glance at his friend. For the first time in the past days, he left the hospital with a truly hopeful feeling. All the way home, he delightedly racked his brain over options for plan B.

* * *

Hardy didn't know what to expect when Tess entered his room. She hesitated at the door and didn't come closer until he beckoned her over wordlessly. She took a chair and he moved the head of the bed up. He couldn't face her lying down.

"How's Daisy?" he asked finally when the silence between them grew unbearable.

"She misses you. Did you sneak in your mobile to text her yesterday?" Tess shot him a quizzical glance.

"Aye." It had been his only contact with Daisy since his life had fallen apart.

"What are we going to tell her?" Tess wondered, a quiver in her voice.

Hardy closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm. It was all about Daisy. This wasn't about them. When he looked at Tess again, she was crying. He knew it wasn't for him.

"She can't know about –" He choked up. He couldn't say it. His fingers curled into the sheet. It was too painful. He had thought he could talk about it, but he quickly realized that he'd been wrong.

"I guess, she can't," Tess agreed quietly. "Not after what you did with the case."

"Why did you do it, Tess?" he blurted out, breaking the promise he had made to himself not to ask. His gaze bore into her. She couldn't look away and he saw guilt mirrored in those blue eyes that used to be his whole world.

"Alec, I don't think this is a good time to talk about it," she said carefully, her voice flat.

"Why not? This is as good as any. 'S not like we ever found a good moment to share our secrets before all this happened," he spewed at her.

"Oh, please. I don't need your sarcasm." Annoyance was dripping off of her words.

"What are you afraid of? That it'll kill me? It nearly did already, so what difference does it make?" he snarled, unable to hold back in his wounded anger.

"Alec!" she exclaimed. There was genuine outrage and hurt in her voice. They glared at each other for what seemed an eternity until she hung her head.

"I didn't want to hurt you," she mumbled.

"You did." He stared at the ceiling tiles, his eyes stinging. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of crying.

Focusing on the grey lines and dots, he asked, "How long?"

"A while," she replied.

His eyes whipped toward her. "How long?" he repeated, louder this time.

"Why is that important, Alec?"

"How long?" he shouted into her face, breathing heavily.

"Fine. Since before Christmas," she admitted finally.

Five bloody months. And he had had no idea. Not even a suspicion. His brain was suddenly flooded with too many moments that when looking back were so _obvious._ He never knew. He cupped his mouth with his hand as if to silence a scream.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he pressed through gritted teeth.

"I meant to. But then Daisy got sick and –"

"That was a month ago! You've been _cheating_ on me for half a year and you only thought about telling me now?" Anger and disbelief roughened up his words. He didn't know what hurt more – the fact that she had utterly betrayed him or the fact that she had such blatant disregard for him as a human being.

"I have no idea why you hate me so much, Tess, or what I did to you, but I didn't deserve this. I don't deserve being treated like a piece of shit. Would you have even told me if you hadn't lost the pendant?"

His heart had finally caught up with his emotions. There was a run of stuttering beats and then a pause, followed by a frantically fast rhythm. Tess stared at the monitor, fear unmasked in her wide eyes, and Hardy stared at her. He didn't need to see the screen, he already knew what was happening.

"Don't pretend you're worried," he wheezed in between gasping breaths.

She took his hand. He wanted to pull away, but he was too weak. And somewhere deep inside he desperately wished he could still cling on to it like he used to. His fingers curled around hers and he squeezed them hard when a wave of pain washed over him. She flinched ever so slightly, but left her hand where it was.

After a couple of minutes the attack subsided and Hardy's tense body relaxed. Exhausted, his eyelids drooped shut. They were still holding on to each other.

"I don't hate you, Alec," she whispered eventually.

He forced his eyes open. Her gaze was resting on him and the warmth with which she looked at him was too much to bear.

"You just don't love me any more," he spat together with all the hurt he was feeling.

That made her pull her hand away. He immediately missed the anchor she had given him and regretted what he had said.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispered, curling up his fingers, desperately trying to lock in that warmth she'd been giving him.

"What for, Alec? That you lash out when you're hurt instead of _talking_? That you live inside your head and don't care what that does to someone else's feelings? That you don't share? That you don't let me in? That everything revolves around you and what you think needs to happen? That you are never _present,_ always somewhere else, even if you're sitting right next to me? That you haven't seen me in god who knows how long? That you're not interested in what's going on with me? That all you care about is you? And I guess Daisy, but certainly not me. That you –"

"Please stop," he begged, burying his face in his shaky hands. It wasn't the first time she had accused him of those things, but she had never poured it all out like she was doing now. Her words washed over him like hungry waves on a beach, tugging little bits and pieces away with them when they retreated into the ocean. His heart was being eroded and there was nothing he could do to protect himself against the relentless surf. He was drowning all over again.

"I'm sorry, Tess," he repeated the only words he could think of.

She huffed. "Too little, too late. We haven't been close in so long now. I miss the man I married, Alec. The man who was happy to cuddle with me on the sofa, who didn't complain about being trapped under me when I fell asleep on his lap. The man who said hello to _me_ when I walked in the door and who didn't only ask about the latest development in a case. The man who noticed when something was bothering me, to whom I didn't need to point out when I was feeling down. The man who _knew_ what made me happy instead of deciding for himself what he _thinks_ is supposed to make me happy."

Hardy listened to what she had to say, taking all the stabs. He knew she was right to a certain extent. He had changed. He wasn't the same carefree man any more. Hadn't been for a long time now. Too often his professional life had invaded what should have been sacred and untouchable. It had taken away time, attention, and not the least of all energy from being able to be there for the most important people in his life. And in those too many moments when he had barely anything left to give, he had given it to his daughter. He had lost his wife on the way, but he had also lost himself.

He stared at his wife of almost fifteen years, the one person he thought would always stand by him and who he had failed so thoroughly. Her face blurred with the tears in his eyes and he reached to wipe her damp cheeks. She swatted at his hand.

"Don't touch me, Alec!" she hissed and he dropped his arm heavily onto the bed. He was weary and the conversation was taking its toll on him. He tried to hide it though, wanting to give her all the time she needed to say what she should have told him a long time ago.

She searched his face and her expression turned from angry to disappointed. "Even now, you're doing it. I can see how exhausted you are. You think you need to keep it together so I can talk, to give me the time or whatever it is that you believe I need right now, whereas all I need is to move on and leave you behind."

His heart stuttered again, but it was too brief for the monitor to alarm. He was grateful for that. At least he could hide behind his stoic face without his treacherous body giving away how much she'd hurt him with her calloused words.

"You drove me away, Alec. I –"

"Seriously? 'S my fault now that you're shagging fucking Dave Thompson while we're still married," he cut her off, suddenly furious at the implication he'd driven her into another man's arms. This time the monitor did go off and he cursed under his labored breath.

"Please calm down, Alec," she urged him. The concern in her voice irked him.

"Ach, shut up, Tess. Why do you even _care_?" he wheezed.

"Because you're Daisy's father and I don't want her to grow up without you around," she replied.

Their eyes locked. The truth sank in for both of them. Daisy was the only good thing that seemed to be left between the two. This time, it was Tess who reached out to him. She brushed his matted hair away from his forehead.

"She needs you, Alec," Tess said with a sad smile.

Hardy looked away, gaze trailing out the window. "She needs you too. And maybe soon, she'll need you more than ever."

"Please don't say that." Her voice broke and she sniveled. Her hand found his again, fitting perfectly. They both held on to the warmth with the same desperation.

Hardy didn't know how long they'd been sitting together, but when he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized he had drifted off. The sun was hanging lower on the sky, hitting his bed now. She was still cradling his hand.

"Hi," she greeted him with a smile when he moved his head to look at her. "Feel better?"

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"When are they letting you go?" she wanted to know.

"Never," he scoffed. "I'm not staying though. I'll try to leave tomorrow. It's driving me mad," he grumbled.

"Alec, you can't even sit up by yourself. How do you think you'll be able to get out of here?" Tess was the voice of reason as always.

He shrugged. His hazel eyes rested on her beautiful face that was doused in sunlight. "You could help me escape?" he asked sheepishly.

"Alec, don't be daft!" she chastised him, grinning. Then her face turned serious. "Where are you going to go?"

He stared blankly ahead. He had refused to think about it. "I'm not going back to the house," he blurted out. They both heard the pain in those words but also the finality. There was no need to argue over it. Tess nodded.

"When do you want to talk to Daisy?"

"I have to leave here first. She can't find out about…," he trailed off. His eyes wandered over his battered body. There was no way Daisy wouldn't realize that something serious had happened to her father.

Tess had arrived at the same conclusion. "Are you going to tell her the truth?"

He found Tess' eyes. "I want to. No more lies. But how can I, Tess? She's going to be heartbroken over –" He still couldn't say it.

"I know. But she should know about –" She faltered, unable to say that he was going to die.

"She should, but maybe not yet. If we tell her both things at the same time, she would never forgive you for leaving me." He'd said it before he could think about it. Her face turned pale and she pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Tess, I'm sorry," he apologized. He hadn't intended on hurting her. "Please believe me, I don't even think that way. But she will and you know it." He squeezed her fingers that were still interlaced with his.

"Right. She would. So what are we going to say?" She lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye. She was desperate and lost. It surprised him because she was usually very composed and always had a plan. It also made him feel like he needed to protect her which maybe wasn't the most logical thing to do, but he couldn't turn off his feelings for her.

"We'll tell her we…" – he hesitated and then ploughed through the worst lie he'd ever tell his child. "We'll tell her that we've grown apart and that we both feel we shouldn't be together any more. We'll tell her we both love her, that it has nothing to do with her and that it isn't her fault. She needs to hear that. I don't know if she'll be satisfied with that explanation, but we have to try. We can't drag her into this more than she already will be."

Tess nodded. "Right," she breathed, grasping his hand tighter. When he didn't continue, she added, "Maybe we could say you had a car accident? That would explain why you didn't talk to her in a couple of days and why you… look the way you look?"

Hardy groaned. It was yet another horrible lie. But it couldn't be helped. If he told Daisy about his heart condition at the same time they revealed they were separating, it could cause irreparable damage to the mother-daughter relationship. It had to be avoided at all cost. Otherwise, he taking the blame for the loss of the pendant would have been in vain.

They each had found the other's version of the truth. He closed his eyes.

"Alec, I think you need to rest. You look so tired, much more than when I came in here. We'll find the time when you're out of here." She disentangled her fingers from his, taking the warmth with her. All he was left with was the cold clammy feeling of his sweaty palm.

She brushed a kiss on his forehead. "Go to sleep."

Hardy didn't have it in him to tell her that sleep these days was anything but restful for him. He nodded with his eyelids shut. He didn't allow himself to cry until he was sure she was gone.

* * *

 **A/N:** I want to once again thank my friend and editor HAZELMIST who loses sleep over fixing my mistakes and seriously awkward language. I am eternally grateful. She also has found a new ship – Alec/Ceiling tiles – and I quote: "He's ALWAYS MAKING EYES AT THE CEILING TILES SEE WHAT I MEAN?! TRUE LOVE!" (It's been a running joke between the two of us).

Whatever your feelings are about the things that were said between Duncan and Alec and between Tess and Alec, I hope you can forgive me. This was a tough one to write for so, so many reasons and I ask for kindness in case I made you angry. I also hand out tissues in case I made you cry. Thank you for being such loyal readers!


	42. CHAPTER 41

**A/N:** Thanks for all the notes and comments! Those who follow me on tumblr, you already know I have finished writing this part of Alec's story – I cried and sobbed, but I'm also excited. This is not the final chapter, but we are getting close... A million THANKS TO HAZELMIST for everything she does!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 41**

Baxter searched the crowd for Karen White. She lingered in the back, eyeing her prey like a panther ready to pounce. Usually, press conferences didn't bother him, unlike Hardy who hated being faced with the _'vultures'_ as he called them. But today was different. He had something to hide that he knew they might have already gotten wind of. Surprisingly, no major headlines had hit the news since they had arrested Lee Ashworth the week prior. Some places mentioned a suspect had been taken into police custody, but nothing more detailed.

The flashes of the photographers went off in many short bursts, providing the soundtrack to the quiet murmur of the audience. Baxter ignored the few TV cameras as best as he could. He spotted the familiar faces of Ricky and Cate Gillespie. There was another woman with them who he presumed was Lisa Newbery's mother. He had never met her, but she resembled the pictures of Lisa he had seen. After the usual introductions, he embarked on the dreaded task.

"Thank you everyone for coming. The South Mercia Police Constabulary has called for this conference to inform you that we have arrested a suspect in connection with the murder of Pippa Gillespie and the disappearance of Lisa Newbery," he announced calmly.

The camera clicks rained down on him and a wave of noise ran through the room. People shifted in their chairs and the members of the press were getting restless. Baxter quickly glanced at Karen White. She had moved closer.

"The suspect is a thirty-seven-year-old local man. He was taken into police custody last week and has since been charged with the alleged murder of Pippa Gillespie. He has not been charged with any other crime. Lisa Newbery's whereabouts are still unknown," Baxter continued.

Karen White had made her way to the front.

"We would ask for you to respect the privacy of the families in this difficult time. I am happy to take any questions," he concluded. He hoped he hid his unease behind the professional mask he'd learned to wear so many years ago.

"CS Baxter, can you give out any more information about the killer?" someone shouted from the back.

"We cannot reveal the identity of the suspect at this point in time." Baxter had never understood why a journalist would bother to ask that question. They couldn't share more even if they wanted to.

"CS Baxter, are you still looking for Lisa Newbery's body?"

"We are searching for Lisa Newbery, not her body. We have no evidence that would suggest she is not alive any more, although we are very concerned over the fact that she remains missing." It was a lame statement and did little to distract from the fact that Lisa was probably dead after she had disappeared more than three weeks ago.

"CS Baxter, sources tell us that you have taken over as SIO. Can you confirm this change in leadership at the tail end of the investigation?" Karen White had finally entered the ring. She stood tall and looked him straight in the eye. The amount of self-confidence exuding from her thin figure was disgusting.

"Yes," he answered tersely. MacMillan had emphasized to give out as little information as he could.

"And why was there such a change?" Karen White probed.

"I cannot discuss internal police affairs with the public." MacMillan, Fairbanks and he had debated for a long time what would be the best approach to those questions. Refusal to answer could make them appear more suspicious in the eye of the public, but the true circumstances were worse.

"What happened to DI Hardy? There is a rumor that he and his two lead officers were suspended. What is the significance of that?" Karen White was like a bull dog. Once she had put her maws into her victim she didn't let go.

"DI Hardy was not suspended." Baxter wholeheartedly stated the truth. Never mind that Hardy was lying in the hospital struck down by his heart that wasn't whole at all.

"Then why did you take over as SIO?" she insisted.

"Ms. White, I don't think that the purpose of this press conference is to discuss staffing arrangements within CID. Let's focus on the case, shall we?" Baxter deflected her question.

"Oh, I'd be delighted to do that," she replied with that syrupy tone that Baxter had grown to hate. "Do you believe you have the right man?"

"Yes," he answered confidently, wondering where she was going with this.

"If you have the right man, then why did it take you more than forty-eight hours from arresting to formally charging your suspect?" There was a sly expression on her face that Baxter yearned to slap. But what was more upsetting was the fact that she _knew_ information that no one outside of the police force should be privy to.

"I am not going to discuss procedural aspects of the investigation, Ms. White," Baxter answered neutrally.

She smiled smugly. "That's your privilege, CS Baxter. I do find it intriguing though, and I wonder what else was going on under DI Hardy's leadership. Where is he, by the way?"

"That is none of your concern." He put a considerable amount of effort into keeping his face stoic.

She began again and Baxter cut her off. "If you don't have any questions that are related to the case, I think we might be done here." It wasn't the smoothest way to end it, but he felt he had no choice.

The journalists grumbled and some of them tried to stare down Baxter. They failed. Karen White left quickly, followed by an entourage of photographers and other press members. The rest of the audience filtered out slowly until Baxter was alone in the room. Almost.

"CS Baxter?"

He looked up. The woman who he thought was Lisa's mother approached him shyly.

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"I'm Lisa Newbery's mother. We haven't met." He nodded in acknowledgement. She fidgeted with her purse and dropped her gaze.

"Ms. Newbery, I'm sorry that –"

"He didn't die, did he?" Her eyes came up, but didn't meet his. Baxter could have sworn there were tears in them.

"Excuse me?" he sputtered.

"DI Hardy. He promised me to see the case through, but he's not here now. That makes me wonder if he lost the battle against whatever was making him so ill." They locked gazes. "I hope not though," she added quietly.

Baxter was dumbfounded and speechless. How Hardy had touched this grieving mother in such a way that she was worried about him was beyond his understanding.

"You knew he's ill?" he asked finally.

She looked at him in surprise "Wasn't it obvious?"

Baxter gaped at her in disbelief. She'd seen what the people close to Hardy hadn't.

"He was so committed though. I take it he's still alive then?" There was warmth in her voice.

"Yes, he is," Baxter admitted.

"Would you tell him something from me?" Baxter nodded silently.

"Tell him it's all right. That it's time to take care of himself. Could you do that for me, please?" she said with a sad smile.

"I will," Baxter promised solemnly. When she was almost out the door, he added, "Thank you!"

She turned, a lonely figure surrounded by grief and sorrow, and said, "He deserves it."

Baxter stared after her for a long time before he left to go and pick up Hardy from the hospital.

* * *

"You win," Baxter exclaimed as soon as he saw Emily and handed over an envelope. She grinned and took it. Her eyes rested on it for a bit before she slipped her prize into her coat pocket.

"I wish I hadn't," she confessed, her face turning serious. "I shouldn't let him go yet, but he's going to leave no matter how much I protest."

"You told him he's free to go if he could make it to the loo," Baxter retorted.

"I didn't think he could! After everything that happened, he shouldn't even be standing."

Baxter raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought you'd learned that by now. You can't measure him by ordinary standards."

"I guess you can't," she sighed. They had reached Hardy's room and she took Baxter aside before they entered.

"Listen, Ed. He's going to need a lot of help which he won't want to accept."

She sounded as distressed as he felt. Hardy wasn't ready to go home, but he had insisted. He had demonstrated that he could do what was asked of him, heedless of the fact that he'd almost passed out after his run to the loo the day before.

Emily and Baxter had lost the battle. However, they both felt more at ease with sending him home with Baxter than Hardy staying alone in a hotel somewhere. He wasn't going back to his house. He had stated it once and nobody had ever spoken of it again. Baxter had retrieved some of his things while Daisy and Tess were not there. It pained Baxter to think that Daisy still had no idea, but it devastated Emily because she knew how much it hurt to be on the other side.

Emily handed him a few pill bottles. "These are his pain medications and something to help him sleep. Maybe he'll listen to you and take them." She looked him in the eye and cautioned quietly, "Don't leave them around. Just in case." Baxter held her gaze and nodded. He didn't need to say anything else.

They entered the room together. A pale and haggard Alec Hardy was sitting hunched over at the edge of his bed. His head snapped up and he tried to straighten his body, pretending to be ready to leave. Unable to hide the pain, he sucked in air sharply.

When Emily handed him the papers to sign himself out, she made one last desperate attempt. "Alec, this isn't a good idea. Your arrhythmia is far from being controlled and you can barely walk a few yards. I know Ed and his family are going to keep an eye on you, but there won't be any monitors or nurses to help out. I really –"

"Stop it Emily," he interjected roughly. They glared at each other. He'd lost the gruffness when he continued, "Please, we've talked about this. We all know the heart is as good as it gets for the time being, nothing much more you can do right now." He looked into her watery eyes and took her hand. "I promise to take my medications. I'll even take the sleeping pills or whatever it is that you gave Ed if it makes you feel better. Let me leave. I can't stay in this place any longer. All I do is stare at the ceiling and think about what happened and I just can't…" His voice broke and he needed to catch his breath. His hazel eyes were pleading with his doctor, as teary as hers.

Baxter cleared his throat to rid himself of the lump that was stuck in there. They couldn't all cry. He sighed. Again, it was up to him to keep calm. He resorted to pragmatism, his trusted ally in life.

"Emily, don't worry, please. I will take care of him." Before Hardy could say something that wouldn't help the situation, Baxter shut him up with a glare. "He can stay with us as long as he wants to. I assure you, he won't do anything stupid."

"You know I can hear you, right?" Hardy grumbled.

"Ach, shut up, Alec. You haven't exactly been the most reasonable person in all of this, so you better take some of the uncomfortable truth. I very much agree with Emily that you shouldn't leave, but I also know how god damn stubborn you are. So, we are going to make the best of it."

With that he pushed the wheelchair he had brought closer to the bed. "Time to go. Don't want to get a parking ticket. Get in and don't you dare argue." They exchanged a daggered glare and then Hardy sighed.

"Fine. For the record, I'm only doing this because I don't want you to make me pay if I take too long," Hardy growled. He got up slowly. His face paled and his aim for the chair was slightly off. Baxter caught him by his arm and maneuvered Hardy into the right spot. Hardy winced in pain, pressing his lips into a line.

Emily shook her head and pocketed the signed paperwork. "I'll call in later today to see how it's going. Your follow up appointment is in two days. If you are worried about anything, don't hesitate calling 999." Her last words were directed at Baxter who nodded in affirmation.

Baxter rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it firmly. Then he wheeled Hardy off quickly before anything else could be said.

* * *

Emily and Hardy waited in silence while Baxter fetched his car. Hardy didn't want to leave her on a bad note. She had done so much for him, saving his life more than once. His decision of discharging himself wasn't the wisest, but he'd go insane in that room.

He turned around in the chair and reached for Emily's hand. Once she had found his eyes, he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Emily, but I can't stay. Lying in that bed all day long is driving me mad. Maybe being with Ed's family will distract me enough. My life is gone and I have to see where I go from here." He smiled away his sad feeling as best as he could and added, "I meant to thank you and apologize for all the shenanigans. At least you won your bet."

"Oh, Alec." She rubbed her thumb over an old IV scab on the back of his hand. "Your life isn't gone, but it's going to take you a while to understand that. If you want to thank me, then do me one favor. Talk to your daughter soon. She deserves to hear from you what's been happening these past weeks. And you deserve to tell your side of the story – the truth."

Hardy lacked the words to reply. He was afraid of talking to Daisy, knowing how much she would be hurt that her parents were splitting up. Tess and he had agreed not to disclose the adultery to Daisy with the hope that she would buy their explanation of having grown apart. His heart condition was harder to hide. His daughter still believed him to be on a business trip for the investigation. He had sent a few text messages to Daisy, supporting the cover story. He hadn't mentioned the made up car accident. Tess and he had yet to find a good time to talk with their child.

Another reason for him to get out of the hospital. Under no circumstances was Daisy to believe that her mother was leaving her ill father. It would have a detrimental effect on their relationship. Considering his grim outlook on the future, that had to be avoided at all cost. His health was fragile at best. The fact that he couldn't get the pacemaker for an undefined period of time had dampened his spirits. Luckily for him, they hadn't been high to begin with, so it didn't make a difference.

He snorted at his own cynicism. He meant it when he said that his life was gone - his family and marriage were destroyed by the careless behavior of the one person he would have trusted with his life. And she had taken down his career, the other pillar of his existence, with it.

Granted, nothing of this was only her wrong doing. Telling Daisy they had grown apart wasn't a lie and perhaps what Tess had thrown at him – that he had driven her into the arms of another man – was right. He would never know as she had never given him the chance to make changes. Most likely, his career would have been over, considering his heart disease. But still, maybe if she hadn't told him that night of all nights when he had been so vulnerable, and maybe if she hadn't lost that fucking pendant, then maybe he wouldn't have died the next morning and ruined his chances of ever getting better. Maybe he would have had a shot at coming back to the job. Now, he had nothing.

Angry desperation was boiling hot in him and he gripped the handles of the wheelchair until his knuckles turned white. His sharp breaths must have alarmed Emily as her fingers found his artery on his wrist to check his erratic pulse.

"Don't say a word," he growled, trying to calm down.

She sighed. "Where are your pills? Coat pocket?" He grunted an affirmation. She fished them out and placed two of them in his trembling hand. She gently closed his fingers around them and looked him straight in the eye.

"I don't know what you were thinking about, but if you need to talk, I'm only a phone call away. Don't let it eat away at you, not good for the heart, and I don't only mean the arrhythmia."

He held her gaze while he swallowed the bitter pills. Eventually, he nodded. She placed her hand on his shoulder, resting it there until Baxter arrived with the car.

Hardy took in a deep breath and made every effort to get inside by himself. He almost succeeded. Baxter's steadying hand prevented him from losing his footing. By the time he was seated on the passenger side, he didn't have the strength to buckle up. Baxter clicked the belt into place. It was uncomfortably snug around his bruised and battered ribcage, but he'd stick it out. At least it didn't rub over the surgical site on his neck. Before Baxter could close the door, Emily poked her head in. She surprised him with a quick and timid kiss on his forehead.

"Goodbye, Alec. I'll see you in two days. Remember, your life is not gone. Call me anytime." With a last smile she was gone.

When the car pulled away from the curb, Hardy's anxiety rose. He would never admit it to Baxter or Emily, but he was afraid of leaving the relative safety of the hospital. Now he'd be on his own, something that he really shouldn't and didn't want to be. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Exhaustion won over anxiety and he had drifted off to sleep before they even reached the main road.

* * *

Baxter eyed his snoring friend. He hadn't driven into the garage, hoping the early morning sun would keep the car warm while Hardy was napping. He left the car as close to the entrance as he could to shorten the walk. There were three steps up to the door. Hopefully, Hardy would be able to climb those. Fortunately, their guest room was on the ground floor opposite the bathroom. He sneaked out of the car quietly and entered his home, letting Hardy rest.

His wife, Louise, was waiting in the hallway. "So, how is he?" she asked.

"Asleep." He sighed deeply and tugged her close to his body. "Thank you for agreeing to this. It's not going to be easy."

She kissed him on the cheek. "I know. We've been through something like this before and he's a friend. He needs someone right now and he would do the same for you."

"Yup, he would." He rested his head on her head, breathing in her comforting scent. "He's not like when you saw him last, honey. If it didn't sound so overly dramatic, I'd say he's a shadow of his former self," he added, quoting Duncan's words. He had a hard time keeping it together in front of his wife.

She ran her fingers through his hair. "Then we'll try our best to get him back on his feet. Maybe we can teach him a few manners and social skills while we're at it."

Baxter's lips curled up in a wry smile. "That's a lost cause. Let's hope we'll do better on the other account."

* * *

Hardy woke up half an hour later. Baxter was sitting on the steps in front of his house, together with Louise, quietly talking and enjoying the calm before the storm. The sun warmed their faces, and for the first time in days, Baxter felt peaceful. When Hardy stirred, Baxter jumped to his feet and hurried to open the door for him. That earned him another piercing stare which he ignored. He watched Hardy struggle with the seat belt until an exasperated huff announced Hardy's willingness to be helped. He reached in and unbuckled his friend.

"Thank you, Ed," Hardy said quietly. Their eyes met briefly and Baxter realized that Hardy wasn't only referring to assisting him getting out of the car.

"You're more than welcome." He smiled and held out his hand. Hardy slowly folded one long leg after the other out onto the ground and scooched to the edge of the seat. His face was drawn in pain and there was sweat gleaming on his forehead. He grabbed Baxter's hand so tightly that it hurt, but Baxter didn't let on. He pulled him to a stand more than Hardy actually got up. He gave him a few moments to adjust to the upright position after having been cramped up in the car for so long.

The few steps to the stairs were slow, but Hardy walked on his own with Baxter right by his side. He stopped and eyed the three obstacles in front of him. Then, of his own accord, he reached for Baxter's arm and leaned heavily on it while climbing up to the door. Louise greeted him there.

"Hello Alec, welcome to our house." Her face brightened up with a warm smile. She put her arm around his waist, tiptoed, and brushed a quick kiss on his stubbly cheek. "You need to shave and take a nice shower. Hospitals are rubbish when it comes to that."

Hardy rubbed his hand over his scruff and grinned. "Thought I'd try out something new for a change."

Louise chuckled. "Nonsense. You've been lying on your lazy bum and dwelling in self-pity. That's not gonna fly in this house." She nudged him gently and he moaned when she accidentally touched his broken rib. He didn't complain though. Instead he played along and Baxter allowed himself to be optimistic for one tiny moment.

"Oi, not fair. 'S not my fault that these guys battered my body with the excuse of trying to save my sorry arse." He paused and dropped his head. He shot Baxter a sideways glance, before he continued, much more subdued. "You might be right about the self-pity though."

Louise swiped his bangs off his forehead and lifted his chin so she could look him in the eye. "It's all right, Alec. Healing takes a while. You can't force it. You don't need to worry about anything else, we'll be right with you – to give you what you need, no matter if it's a hug or a bollocking. We've got you."

Hardy stared at her, his hazel eyes growing wider and moist with tears. Then his arm came out, looking for support while his body folded in. Baxter caught him and propped him up against the wall. He slung Hardy's arm over his shoulders and wrapped his around Hardy's slender waist, just like he had that morning when he had found Hardy in his office. He dragged him to the guest room and gently lowered him onto the bed. He helped him get comfortable. Then he sat down next to him. Louise watched them from the door.

Hardy's eyes were falling shut when he muttered, "Don't deserve a friend like you."

Baxter tucked the blanket around him. "Yes, you do. Quit being a knob and go to sleep."

Hardy grunted and rolled over. Before Baxter left the room, he took a long look at the man who'd collapsed on his bed, broken by events that had spiraled out of his control. And despite all the grief he'd caused him over the last weeks, he did not regret for one split second that Alec Hardy had become his friend over the years.

* * *

It was dark in the room, when Hardy was roused from his restless slumber by a knock. He startled and groaned in pain, but his heart took it better than he would have expected. The door opened slowly and Emma stuck her head through the crack.

"Oh, did I wake you up?" She sounded apologetic.

He sucked in some air through his nose and struggled to sit up. "Yes, you did. But it's all right. Can't sleep all day."

Emma chuckled. "You sort of did. It's supper time." Nudging the door with her shoulder, she walked into the room. She was carrying a tray with food.

She brought it over to the bed and set it down next to him. Then she turned on the nightstand lamp. He blinked into the light and eyed the food. He had assumed he wouldn't want to eat, but Louise's culinary skills were supreme and his stomach growled.

Emma smiled. "You don't have to stay in here. We didn't know how tired you'd be."

His eyes found Emma's. "I think...," he trailed off. He couldn't tell her that he'd rather not be part of a happy family's dinner routine. It was too much to bear.

"You know, when I came home from the hospital after I had relapsed and the bone marrow transplant, I couldn't stand being around people, not even my Mum and Dad. I didn't eat with them for days." She tilted her head, observing him struggling to get comfortable. She stepped up to the bed and started tugging on his pillow.

"Let me show you a trick." She removed the pillow from behind his back, fluffed it and folded it up to a triangular shape. Then she stuck it at the small of his back and added a second one to prop up his upper body. It was surprisingly effective and relieved a lot of pressure on his spine and neck.

"Better?" she wanted to know.

"Aye. Thank you," he mumbled. A pleased expression flicked over her face.

After she had placed the tray in his lap, she dragged over the paper bag on his nightstand that contained all the many pills Emily had prescribed him. "Dad told me to remind you to take your meds."

He huffed and reached for it. Before he could grab it, she had opened it and taken out the bottles and blister packs. She scrutinized the instructions that Emily had written down for him. Her eyebrow went up, reminding Hardy of her father.

"You've got quite your own little pharmacy here. This is worse than what they sent me home with. And I was on all the big guns to suppress the rejection of the transplant." She looked up and tilted her head.

"Alec, I hope you remember what I told you a few weeks ago. If you need to talk, I'm here."

"'M fine. Don't worry," he said unconvincingly.

"I don't think you're fine. Not when I look at you. And I don't mean physically," she argued gently but firmly.

"Emma, please, I –" He broke off. Her kind eyes rested on him. She didn't look away or move. Instead she sat down next to him, moved the pills and the tray to the side, and grabbed both his hands. He tried to withdraw them, but she didn't let him.

"I want you to listen to what I have to say and then I will leave you alone if you want me to."

He stared at her with stinging eyes, his hands resting in hers.

Smiling sadly, she began, "Your life has changed forever. There is nothing that can undo it. You found out about this disease and it has taken over everything. It may kill you. Maybe tomorrow, maybe when you're old and grey."

He was breathing heavily. Emma squeezed his hands and continued, "It makes you weak and dependent and you hate it. You hate your body for doing this to you, for betraying you like this. And you hate yourself because you let it get this far. This is not how it's supposed to be. You're supposed to be strong and take care of the people you love and not the other way around."

He had no idea how she could know. Her words were shaking him up and he felt cornered. Unconsciously, he pulled on his hands, but Emma held them tighter and didn't let him escape.

"You're angry – at yourself, but you don't know why, because frankly it's the unfairness of life that you want to be angry at. You feel out of control and the only way to gain control is by keeping it all inside, so that you can pretend to everyone else that things are fine. Everyone treats you like you're this poor thing that needs protection because you're so fragile. You hate it and you want them to leave you alone and take their pity with them. The things in your life that gave you meaning and fulfillment seem to be unreachable, and there are moments when you really don't see the point in going on."

She paused and made sure they looked each other in the eye. "And you're scared. So scared of dying, but also so scared of living with this unfathomable monster that is lurking around every corner. It's eating away at you and you don't know how to make it go away. You can't ignore it, not even for one second, because it might come at you and then you would have wasted those last precious moments without knowing that they were the last."

Hardy was trembling. Everything that she'd said was true and he would have never been able to put it into words. But she had been there, she'd gone through it. She had faced the abyss and made it to the other side.

She let go of his hands and tentatively placed one on his arm. When he didn't shrug it off, she scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. He cried into her shoulder until his eyes were red and swollen. When all his tears had been shed, she gently pulled away.

"Better?" she asked again with a smile.

"Aye," he replied, the corners of his mouth curling up.

"Good. That's a start." She put the tray back into his lap. "Time to eat." She stood and he looked up.

"Emma, would you mind staying?" he asked shyly.

She tilted her head, the smile still lingering. "No. Not at all."

She grabbed a chair and reached for his pills. He glared at her, yanking at the blister pack she was holding. She raised her eyebrow and Hardy's memory took him back to that moment when Baxter had caught him having an attack in the interrogation room. He let go and she nodded.

"It's okay to accept help. Nothing wrong with that. It doesn't make you dependent on someone."

"It so hard though, Emma," he admitted. "I feel so useless and crippled by this."

"I understand, I really do." He believed her. "But it'll get better. You're recovering. Don't be so hard on yourself. Don't push us away. You're not alone."

"You think so? I'm not so sure about that. I feel pretty alone right now," he blurted out, his guards down.

"I know. I felt like that too. And I didn't have to deal with all the things that are happening in your life right now. It's so hard to connect to other people once you've been so fundamentally shaken up. Your foundation has been torn down and it's going to take a while to rebuild it. If it's of any consolation, I did it. And I know many others who also struggled through this. You can get through this. Don't lose courage. You have to give it time."

"How can I give it time, if that's exactly what I might not have?" he cried out in distress. He fisted his hands into tight balls.

Emma cupped one of them and gently loosened his fingers, one by one. "Take it day by day. Don't worry so much about the tomorrow. If there is one, great. And that's all that counts. Nothing else. I still live by that despite being cancer free for almost six years now." Their eyes met and he saw the peace that she had found. He wanted to have the same, but he knew he couldn't, not now, not yet.

"I don't think I can do that," he whispered, falling back onto the pillow and closing his eyes.

"All you need to do is try," she reassured him. They sat in silence, her hand resting on his. He was grateful for her company.

"Thank you." His words felt inadequate, but his exhausted mind couldn't come up with anything better.

"You're welcome. Now try to eat something before you fall asleep again."

She stayed with him until he had finished the soup and salad Louise had made for him. He barely got through the meal, and when she took away the tray, he was halfway gone already.

"Good night, Alec." She pecked a quick kiss on his temple and left the room quietly.

A memory of Emma and Daisy running through a meadow and waving at him lulled him to sleep. Maybe he wasn't so alone after all.


	43. CHAPTER 42

**A/N:** Thanks everyone for sticking with me for so long. We are almost there... not quite yet, but almost. And as always the biggest THANKS TO HAZELMIST! Anyone who enjoyed reading this story should give her a shout out, because without her, this would have never happened.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 42**

Hardy's sleep had been restless. Pippa's ghost drove him out of the bed before the sun was up. He hoped he hadn't woken anyone in the house. It was quiet and he padded into the kitchen. After he put the kettle on, he worked his way through the cabinets to find tea. Of course, it would be in the last one. Rubbing the back of his head, he stared at the selection for a while until he settled on chamomile.

"We have decaf too," Baxter yawned behind him.

Hardy spun around and sagged against the counter. Panting, he glared at Baxter who looked at him in bewilderment. Baxter grinned apologetically. "Sorry, Alec. I keep forgetting that you can be scared to death."

"Not funny, Ed. Not funny at all," Hardy groused and busied himself with preparing the tea.

"What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?"

Hardy shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." His back was turned to his friend which made evading the question easier.

"Emily mentioned you are having nightmares?"

 _Bollocks._ What else had she told him? He poured the water into the mug and dunked the tea bag in it. The clear water changed to a pale yellow color. It made him shudder with disgust.

"I hate this," he muttered under his breath.

"It tastes better with honey in it," Baxter suggested, taking him literally on purpose. He placed the jar with the golden liquid next to Hardy's mug.

Hardy ignored the offer and blew on his tea, if one could call it that. He felt Baxter's eyes resting on him and he knew he had to give him an answer.

"I do," was his simple reply. Baxter frowned in confusion, but after he had replayed their conversation in his mind, recognition what Hardy was referring to dawned on him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" There was doubt in Baxter's voice. He knew Hardy too well.

"Not really, but I have a feeling you're going to bug me regardless," Hardy scoffed.

Baxter shrugged. "I'm not going to make you talk, Alec. You know my door is always open." He patted Hardy on the arm and started to leave.

"It's the river. I dream about finding Pippa," Hardy revealed, staring into his tea. His long fingers tapped the porcelain nervously. Small waves quivered through the yellow fluid, forming little craters like rain drops on the water. A weight was pulling on his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut and a shiver ran down his spine.

Baxter halted. With his back to Hardy, he said, "Hm. I wondered if that's what it was." He paused, then continued quietly, "I used to dream of Emma in her grave. Every night while she was in hospital and for months after. I've never told her." His shoulders slumped.

"Do you still get them? Those dreams?" Hardy wanted to know. Baxter turned around. His eyes were dark.

"Very rarely. They disappeared when she got better." There was a strain in his voice.

"I want them to go away, Ed. I'm so _tired_. I can't sleep because I drown every night and then...," he trailed off before he could share that Pippa's ghost turned into Daisy. He sagged onto a chair.

Baxter sat next to him and asked gently, "Does it affect your heart?"

Hardy nodded and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes.

"Maybe you could use those sleeping pills Emily gave you?"

"I tried. It makes it worse because I can't wake up. I get stuck in it and when I finally come to, I'm exhausted and beaten," he admitted, defeat ringing in his words.

"Have you thought about talking to someone? A professional?" Baxter suggested carefully.

Hardy shook his head.

"I could recommend someone who helped me."

Hardy looked up in surprise. "You went to therapy?" His words echoed his disbelief. He would never have pegged Baxter to have done that.

"Yup. Louise made me go. I am grateful I did. It helped me deal with Emma's illness and also with how to be a better parent. Not to shelter her and protect her from everything. I won't lie, it wasn't easy, but it was worth it. Think about it." Baxter smiled and stood. His hand found its way onto Hardy's shoulder. "I'm going back to bed, MacMillan has plans for me in the morning. You should try the same. At least rest, even if you can't sleep."

Before he left the kitchen, he addressed Hardy again. "It _will_ get better. It might take a while, but it will. Have courage, Alec."

Hardy stared after him. Then he picked up his tired body and trudged back to the guest room. He laid on the bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling. No tiles to count. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes. Courage wasn't easy to find if there wasn't anything to draw it from. He'd still have to see proof that it was indeed going to get better. But he was willing to believe in the light at the end of the tunnel, whatever that light might turn out to be.

* * *

Baxter had barely sat down behind his desk when someone knocked at his door. He half-yawned and half-growled "Come in." Hardy's poor sleep habits had left him tired.

Craig Murphy walked in and took a chair. His legs as always seemed too long for his body and he twisted them awkwardly around themselves. Nervously, he tugged on his bow tie.

"Murphy, what's bugging you?" Baxter sighed. Why he had to be cursed with two taciturn and awkward detectives was a mystery to him. At least the one in front of him wasn't quite as much of a grouch as the one that was currently sleeping in his guest room.

"Sir, remember when you had me look into the hacking of the Glasgow police database?" Murphy began slowly.

Baxter nodded and was dreading where this would go.

Murphy shook his shaggy hair out of his pasty face. "Erm... so Alistair Murray and I sort of... erm... we sort of put a track on DI Hardy's case files and other files that might relate to him." He squirmed in his seat.

Baxter sat up. "You did what?" he questioned sharply.

"Don't get upset. It's a good thing we did." Murphy's pale cheeks flushed. Baxter wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or excitement. Knowing his nerdy IT specialist, it was probably the latter.

"Why?" Baxter wanted to pull his hair out. Now not only did he have to contest with a hacker, but also with his own staff spying on themselves.

"Because someone's done the same!" Murphy announced with unabashed glee. "We found it. We didn't get the person, but we discovered the tracking malware. And we got rid of it." He was proud of his achievement.

Baxter leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Are you telling me someone was stalking my DI the whole time he's been working here?" Suddenly, he felt very old.

"No. Not the whole time. But certainly for the past two or so years."

Something popped up in Baxter's mind. "How much information did they get about the current investigation?"

"Quite a bit I would say. Whatever has been put into the database already, especially when it came from Hardy."

"Could they have known things about Lee Ashworth's arrest procedures?"

"Absolutely." Murphy seemed certain.

"Is it feasible to assume that they knew that Ashworth wasn't charged until almost seventy-two hours after he was arrested?" he wanted to know.

"It's very likely. Are you thinking about the information leak to the press?" Murphy was more in tune with the current events than Baxter would have given him credit for.

Baxter nodded. "Yes." He reached for his phone and dialed MacMillan's office.

"Liz? It's Ed. Have you put anything electronically in the personnel files of Hardy and the other two?"

"Good morning to you too, Ed. Nice to hear from you. And no I haven't. Why?" She sounded indignant.

"Don't. We might have a security breach," he stated curtly.

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end. Then she inhaled deeply. "Is that how this despicable woman who calls herself a journalist got her information?" She was quick to pick up on things.

"Possibly. I have one of my best IT guys here who found that Hardy's files have been followed for at least the last two years."

"Excuse me?" she snapped.

"Do you want to come down to my office and join our conversation?" Baxter offered innocently. He could picture her pressing her lips together and cursing the day she'd hired Alec Hardy.

"I'll be there in five minutes. Don't go anywhere." She hung up.

Murphy looked at him with wide eyes. "Chief MacMillan is coming here? To talk to me?"

"Yes, Murphy. Don't have a heart attack over it. She doesn't bite."

Murphy gave him a desperate stare. "Oh yes, sir, she does," he croaked.

Baxter grinned. If he could only tell what he'd witnessed over the last few days, MacMillan would never live it down and her reputation would be ruined forever. By the time MacMillan had made it to his office, Murphy was a nervous wreck. He had adjusted his bow tie about a dozen times and his leg was bouncing up and down at a rate that made Baxter want to put a steadying hand on it.

MacMillan entered the room and Murphy jumped to attention. Baxter suppressed a smile and greeted his superior. Murphy stammered through a "Good morning ma'am" which earned him a raised eyebrow. His pasty complexion paled even more.

"Go on, Murphy, tell her what you told me," Baxter ordered him. MacMillan had taken a seat and gave Murphy a measured look. Murphy complied and began to stammer along. As soon as he was thrown into his familiar environment of virtual clouds, bits and bytes, he was able to formulate proper sentences, raving over a hacker's abilities that had given Baxter more than one headache already.

"Ed, why am I only hearing about this incident in Glasgow now?" MacMillan questioned Baxter. She had stolen one of his pencils and was tapping it on his desk.

"I didn't think it warranted your involvement at the time. After all, it didn't happen in our database. At least we didn't think so," Baxter explained. It was a poor excuse. She raised her eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Ma'am, we didn't have any indication that our files had been compromised. Alistair and I checked on it. We didn't find any traces of the hacker until we specifically put tabs on anything that had been touched by DI Hardy. Nothing came up until a few days ago. Someone had looked into the current investigation." Murphy was back in his element.

"Can you tell what information they garnered?" MacMillan asked, tightly grasping the pencil.

"As far as we can tell, it was only what had been put in electronically so far. There is DI Hardy's documentation up until last Wednesday. It seems that most of the other officers haven't transferred their findings yet. No forensics reports have been touched. But it appears that the hacker was interested in some of the booking procedures as well," Murphy shared with them.

MacMillan sighed. "Have you stopped it?"

Murphy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, ma'am. Alistair and I were able to close off all the access points and improve our security. I have already discussed further steps with our IT department that's on it as well. I've been going back through DI Hardy's history to see which cases might have been compromised."

"Good job, Murphy. I want you to give me a full report. In writing, not electronically for now. Please keep this confidential. If you could continue to look into what other files, including personnel files, could have been accessed that would be very helpful. This was excellent work," she concluded.

Murphy beamed and Baxter excused him to leave.

As soon as the door closed, MacMillan turned to him. Scowling, she hissed, "What the hell, Ed? Why didn't you tell me about this? I had no clue that they hacked the fucking Glasgow police database to get to Hardy's old case. I thought the bloody journalist did some digging, but not this."

Baxter squirmed under her glare. "To be honest with you, there was so much else going on that I didn't pay too much attention to it. I never thought that it would in any way become pertinent to this investigation." It was a lame excuse but the truth.

"Jesus. What is it with this man and the drama?" She shook her head in disbelief. Baxter blankly stared ahead and shrugged.

"His best friend told me he used to recite Hamlet in school. In a nightdress with a monkey skull," he shared Duncan's story with MacMillan. Her eyes grew wide, then she blinked and took in a deep breath.

"That says it all," she muttered.

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"What are we going to do about it?" Baxter asked eventually.

She tugged on her suit jacket and resolutely put down the stolen pencil. "Murphy said they put an end to it. Hardy has to close out his part of the documentation without any room for doubt or question. And that includes putting it into our database."

Baxter tilted his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "I take it you spoke to Barnstein about the possibility of Hardy not being available to testify in a trial?" he inquired quietly.

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "He emphasized the need to make sure we have it all written down." She looked up and a wry smile played over her face. "He nearly had a heart attack when I implied that Hardy might not be around. It was amusing, I have to admit."

Baxter had a hard time imagining the ever level-headed and dignified CPS prosecutor losing his composure. But he could also understand why Barnstein would be so upset. Missing the main police force prosecution witness often was a death sentence for a trial, not to mention the fact that they had lost a key piece of evidence. _Fuck._

Baxter groaned. "Ashworth's never going to be convicted, is he?"

MacMillan gave him a pained look. They were both aware of the painful reality.

"Maybe he's going to plead guilty?" she suggested doubtfully.

Baxter snorted. "Right. He hasn't even confessed."

Her fingers had found the pencil again. She was drawing little stick figures on one of the file folders on Baxter's desk. They were all hangmen.

"How's Hardy?" she wanted to know. She tried to make it sound like a casual question and failed miserably.

"The usual. Pretends to be fine but isn't," Baxter scoffed. She drew another stick figure, this time she added a heart. She crossed it out. Baxter was fascinated and wondered if she knew what she was doing. She seemed far away.

"Liz, what's going to happen if he makes it?" he questioned hesitantly. She broke the pencil tip. "He asked me if I'm going to fire him."

"What did you tell him?" She stared at the stick figures.

"That I want him to stay if he can, but that I don't have any jurisdiction over the decision that DPS will make."

Her eyes came up to meet his. "Neither do I. That's the whole idea about DPS. I see no reason for him to be kicked off the force though if his health allows him to continue working. We have to be careful not to start believing the lie. I think he might and I'm worried about it. Because he _feels_ responsible for what happened, even if he isn't."

"Maybe you should tell him," Baxter said softly. She held his gaze and Baxter saw her emotions warring in her dark eyes.

"Am I getting too close?" she wondered, clutching the pencil tightly.

Baxter smiled, leaned forward and gently pried the pencil from her fingers. "We both did. And it's all right. We are human and it's okay to show that now and then." He drew another heart over her crossed out one. "We never know how we'll deal with true matters of the heart until we encounter them. The tricky part is to have enough courage to face them."

She stared at his drawing, then looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "You've got enough for two, Ed. I'll come to your house after work today to talk to Hardy."

They both stood and he held the door for her when she left. He leaned against it as soon as it had closed and a broad smile brightened up his face. He'd tamed the beast.

* * *

Rays of sun light fell into Baxter's living room. Hardy sat on the sofa, enjoying the warmth in his face. His eyes were closed, but he didn't have to open them to know who had come in and blocked the light from reaching him. He'd always recognize that smell of a spring meadow that accompanied Tess everywhere she went.

She'd called earlier to see if he needed anything and offered to bring over some clothes for him. He'd agreed, giving in to the irrational longing of wanting to see her.

"Alec? Are you awake?" she whispered insecurely. He opened his eyes. Her face was dark, obscured by her long hair falling into it. The sun threw a soft halo around her towering figure.

"Yup." He patted the spot next to him. "Wanna sit?" He probably shouldn't have expected her to take a seat there, but he was still disappointed when she plopped down opposite him.

"I left the bag with your stuff in the guest room. Louise let me in."

He nodded and tugged on his ear. "All right."

She was staring at him wide-eyed.

"What?" She didn't say anything. It was unnerving. " _What_?" he repeated, unable to hide his annoyed tone.

Her mouth twitched and she looked away, a tear running down her cheek. Hardy was confused by her reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly. Shoving away his own hurt feelings, he struggled to his feet. He collapsed heavily onto the armrest of the easy chair, barely able to hold his balance. His hand found its way to her back. He didn't dare wipe her cheek like he wanted to.

"Love, please, what's the matter?" The term of endearment had slipped his tongue, but she didn't seem to mind. He wasn't sure why she was crying.

She turned around and raised her hand. She didn't finish the motion, just shy from caressing his face.

"Did I say something?" he wondered, taking her hand that was hovering in midair. She didn't pull away.

"Oh, Alec, you look –" She stopped abruptly.

And suddenly he knew what it was that had upset her. He'd seen it in the mirror this morning when he unsuccessfully attempted to shave. The vertigo had been too much to battle and he had given up before he had even started. Instead he had leaned on the sink and stared into his reflection, horrified by how awful he looked. The lines in his face were deep and the dark circles under his eyes hollowed out his features. But what was the most jarring was his grey color, contrasted by the red angry scabbing wound on his neck. It had been frightening in the dim light of the bathroom, let alone in bright sunlight.

He averted his face, still holding her hand. He didn't want her to see him like that. He didn't want her pity. She squeezed his fingers tightly.

Eventually, her tears ebbed away and she spoke, "Are you feeling any better?" It seemed ironic for her to ask, considering her reaction to his appearance.

"Sort of," he answered with a shrug. He pried his hand away from hers and stumbled to his spot on the sofa, unable to stand the closeness any longer.

"When do you want to talk to Daisy?"

 _Never_ , he screamed inside. He longed to see her, but he didn't want to have _that_ conversation "Dunno," he mumbled.

"She will be home from school early tomorrow. Or we could do it on the weekend?" Tess proposed hesitantly.

Hardy gave up avoiding the inevitable. "Tomorrow is fine. I can come to the house."

"All right. Two o'clock?"

He nodded in defeat.

"Alec, I think I need to tell her something before then."

"What? Why? I thought we agreed –"

"If she sees you like this without any word of warning, I'm not sure how she'll react," Tess explained cautiously. Her eyes rested on him, taking in his battered body. She was right. He hated to acknowledge it.

"Fine," he sighed, dragging his hands over his gaunt face. "What do you want to say to her?"

"I could mention the accident and that you got a bit beaten up," she suggested.

"A bit beaten up, ey?" He huffed. "That's an understatement," he added with a grunt.

"Yeah, it is," Tess sighed. Their eyes met. She'd said she didn't hate him. Maybe he could believe her.

She stood. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Her hand brushed over his shoulder and he clambered to his feet.

"I'll walk you out."

She gave him a questioning look but didn't object. Their goodbye was silent and his gaze lingered on her car until it disappeared around the corner. On the doorstep, he suddenly felt stifled by being inside. He snatched his coat from the hook and shrugged it on with a moan.

"I'm going for a walk," he shouted into the general direction that he assumed Louise was at. Before she could prevent him from leaving he was out the door.

The sun was hitting his shoulders while he slowly made his way down the block. It was the first time he'd challenged his body to that much activity. He regretted it quickly. By the time he had made it to the end of the street, his heart was thudding up to his neck and the pain in his chest took his breath away. He slumped against a fence. His legs gave out and he couldn't prevent himself from sliding down onto the pavement.

It only took Louise five minutes to figure out that he'd escaped. She found him when he struggled to get up.

"Here you are," she greeted him kindly and helped him to his feet. Then she led him back to their house and into his room. She settled him on the bed, puffing up the pillows just like Emma had the day before. When he was comfortable, she handed him his pills and a glass of water.

Grinning, she said, "Ed said you're a flight risk. That was pretty good. I wouldn't have thought you'd get that far."

Hardy snorted, but then grinned as well. "It was, wasn't it?"

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "Take a nap, you look spent."

"Yes, mum," he replied and closed his eyes obediently.

* * *

Hardy stared at the newspaper. His finger smeared over the drop of his decaf tea that had fallen on the article and soaked through the flimsy paper. With great satisfaction, he rubbed away Karen White's smug grin on the picture that accompanied her byline. She had wreaked havoc with the information that Baxter had released during the press conference the day prior. How she had found out about the three detectives being taken off the case was a mystery to him. Whoever had sung should be kicked off the force. The horrendous piece of writing was full of accusations. Hardy had to admit it, Karen White had outdone herself. If he hadn't been a part of this whole mess, he might've believed her lies. She alluded to mistakes being made during the investigation, citing the fact that the CS was now in charge and the previous senior officers had disappeared as her proof. She questioned the integrity of the police force and if they had apprehended the right suspect. It was infuriating and Hardy crumpled up the article with his long fingers.

A knock made him look up. He'd been resting since his short walk after Tess had left. Baxter leaned against the door frame and scrutinized Hardy. He must have just come back from work.

"Louise said you went out?"

Hardy nodded and willed his tired body to get up.

"How did it go?" Hardy wasn't sure if Baxter referred to his ill-fated walk or the conversation with Tess. Either way, the answer was the same.

"Don't ask," Hardy growled. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the dizzy spell to subside.

"I see," Baxter said drily. "You have a visitor."

Hardy's head snapped up and he frowned. He couldn't think of anyone he'd wanted to see besides his daughter. But that wasn't going to happen, not until the next day when he and Tess were planning on telling Daisy they were separating.

"Liz MacMillan wants to talk to you."

"And you brought her here? Whatever happened to she doesn't do house calls?" Hardy was upset. He didn't feel up to talking to his Chief, especially not in his jeans and old jumper. He hadn't shaved and his hair was an unruly mop, sticking up in all directions. He raked his fingers through his auburn fringe and scratched at his scalp.

"Alec, she's seen you half naked already. I doubt she cares if you're not wearing a suit," Baxter sighed.

"Oh, thanks for reminding me," Hardy grumbled, his ears burning with embarrassment. Baxter grinned and beckoned him to come along. Hardy struggled to his feet and obediently padded after him into the living room where Liz MacMillan was waiting for him.

She stood when she saw him. "You look better, Hardy. Glad to see that Baxter's hospitality is doing wonders for you."

Hardy ducked his head and mumbled, "I guess so, ma'am." On cue the vertigo that had plagued him all day returned. He teetered and he would have fallen on top off her, if Baxter hadn't swiftly caught his arm and dragged him onto the sofa. Hardy stole a glance at MacMillan who was valiantly hiding her concerned face.

"'M sorry," he muttered, feeling horrified by his own weakness.

"It's all right, you're recovering. I should apologize for bothering you," she said, a softness in her voice that Hardy hadn't heard before. Their eyes met and he saw the same sentiment there.

"What can I do for you, ma'am?" he asked, straightening up and self-consciously tugging on his jumper.

"I looked at the case file. It seems that you mostly brought your documentation in order before you took leave for that procedure. Am I correct in that assumption?" Her eyebrow went up with the question and her fingers fidgeted with her purse.

Hardy suppressed a grin and the urge to hand her a pencil, her usual toy of choice to keep herself busy when she was discussing something that bugged her.

"Yes, ma'am. I made sure to bring my things in order before the cardiac cath. I have not looked at anything since then." It was a stupid thing to point out, considering that he had been in the cardiac ICU until the day prior. He felt so inadequate though that he hadn't been able to finish the job and had ultimately caused the case to fall apart.

Baxter and MacMillan exchanged a quick glance. Baxter dropped his gaze to study his fingernails, a sure sign that he was uneasy. MacMillan took in a deep breath.

"I talked to the CPS prosecutor. Taking into account the issues we have, he strongly recommended for specifically your documentation to be pristine. We can't afford to have any gaps or mistakes in there." MacMillan practically implored him and Baxter nodded his head vigorously.

Hardy tilted his head and squinted at them. "Is that so? Has my documentation ever raised any concern?" he asked, very well knowing what they were implying. It had nothing to do with his thoroughness, but much more with the possibility of him not being around for the trial.

"No, no, Alec. That's not it," Baxter jumped in quickly. "Nobody is accusing you of not doing a good job, but…," he trailed off, squirming in his seat. This time, MacMillan nodded her agreement.

Hardy didn't know if he should laugh or cry. It was almost entertaining watching them suffer through this conversation. He decided it was time to relieve them of their pain.

"Why don't you just say that you need me to make sure I documented everything, so that if I don't make it to the trial you will have all my work in writing?" he stated drily.

He might as well have slapped them. MacMillan turned pale and Baxter bright red. Somewhere inside him, he took a small pleasure in the fact that he'd rendered his ever witty superiors speechless. It was a puny victory, considering the price he was paying for it.

"Alec, that's not what we meant." Baxter finally found his words again.

"It's fine, Ed. I know what needs to be done and I will take care of it. It's my fault that we are in this situation and I –"

"No, DI Hardy. It isn't," MacMillan interrupted him firmly. Her face had regained color and she was back to her usual self. Their eyes met. "This is not your fault. I want to be very clear about my point of view here. Despite whatever we came up with for the public, the loss of the pendant has nothing to do with you and this is how things will be handled internally. You are not suspended at this point and you will get a fair hearing with DPS. I'm not kicking you out," she stated, more passionately than Hardy had ever heard her.

It was Hardy's turn to be at a loss for words. He hadn't expected such a strong support on her part and it touched him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he hid his trembling hands between his legs and leaned forward. His eyes were covered by his hair and he didn't look at her. He didn't want her to see him tear up.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, choking up. The fear that they would discharge him had been great, despite his conviction that he was dying and the high likelihood of him being unable to return to his previous position. Hearing those words from her, receiving the reassurance that he'd still have at least that part of his life, was a light at the end of this never-ending tunnel his existence seemed to have become. It was something to keep him going.

They were silent until Baxter cleared his throat.

"Alec, you can use my remote access to go over the virtual files. Do that first and when you feel better, you can swing by the office and take care of the rest. I've dealt with everything since you've been out, so don't worry about that."

Hardy wiped down his face and looked up. MacMillan smiled at him fondly.

"You're a good man, Hardy. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." She stood up and rested her hand on his shoulder. He made an effort to get to his feet, but she pushed him down gently. "Stay and rest. Dear Ed here is more than capable of seeing me out." She gave him a quick pat and then left with Baxer trailing behind her.

Hardy leaned back onto the sofa and let out a long breath. He still had a job.

* * *

Baxter walked MacMillan to the door.

"He looks awful, Ed," she whispered as soon as they were out of earshot. Baxter glared at her.

"That's not exactly good bedside manners. He just survived a cardiac arrest and multiple resuscitations. What do you expect him to look like? A spring chicken?" Baxter hissed and dragged her away from the living room door.

"I'd thought he'd be better. I mean, he's out of the hospital," she argued.

"He's not supposed to be, Liz. The bloody idiot signed himself out. His doctor doesn't agree with it, but we figured we'd rather have him here than sitting alone and unsupervised in some hotel. It's the best we can do right now," Baxter explained hastily in a low voice.

"Is that why you don't want to tell him about the tracking thing?"

Baxter rolled his eyes. "What do you think? If I revealed that he's been stalked for at least a couple of years and the press is being fed information, how fast do you think I'd have to cart him back to the hospital?"

"Point taken. But you will tell him, right? He needs to know and probably his wife as well," MacMillan insisted.

"I'll deal with it when he's less fragile. He's got enough on his plate. They haven't even talked to their daughter yet."

"Oh." MacMillan's eyes narrowed. "I wonder what he will tell her. Poor girl. She's in for some heartache."

Baxter watched her face sadden and dropped his gaze. He stared at his feet, images of a happy laughing Daisy flickering through his mind. MacMillan's hand on his elbow brought him back to the present.

"Make sure he gets enough rest once he starts working on the files. He can't be trusted."

Baxter expelled some air through his nose. "He's a lost cause."

She found his eyes. "I hope not."

As always he held the door for her.

"Keep me in the loop this time, would you? No more secrets." He nodded and saw her off.

When he turned around, Hardy was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and watching him.

"Alec! How long have you been there?"

Hardy raised his eyebrows. "Long enough to see you bond with Liz MacMillan." A smirk danced over his haggard face. Then he turned serious. "Am I really a lost cause?"

Baxter quickly stepped toward his friend and put his arm around his shoulders. "No. You're not." Hardy shot him a doubtful glance. "You might be lost, but not a lost cause."

Hardy huffed and pushed off the door frame. He swayed a little and pulled a face. "I'm so done with this," he groaned, holding on to Baxter with a tight grasp. Baxter remained silent, a rock that Hardy could lean on. When the moment had passed, Hardy wordlessly trudged to the guest room.

"I'm going to sleep," he muttered, head hanging down. His shoulders caved in, giving him the air of utter despondency. Baxter's stomach clenched. Hardy's broken heart was breaking his. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but was at a loss for words. He watched the door close behind Hardy, his own spirits low. He took in a deep breath. Healing was a process. One day at a time. Tomorrow was another day.

* * *

A/N: We are getting very close to the end of this part of the story. I hope this chapter wasn't too anticlimactic. Hazelmist can attest to the fact that what follows isn't. Also, she has found a new ship - Liz/Pencil - which might be able to make up for the loss of Alec/Ceiling tiles. :-)

We are on the home stretch and I'm sad and excited at the same time. And also a little bit anxious. Thanks again to everyone who has been so supportive throughout this journey!


	44. CHAPTER 43

**A/N:** We are almost there... *hands out tissues and tea (or stiff drinks if desired)*

* * *

 **CHAPTER 43**

"Good morning, Alec," Emily greeted him cheerfully. Her radiant smile brightened up the room and Hardy did his best to return it. It wasn't very convincing.

"So, how have you been?" she inquired while she smoothly stuck the ECG leads on his chest.

Hardy sighed. "Do you want to hear the truth?"

A wry smile played over her lips. "That bad?"

He raised his eyebrows and his gaze drifted upward to the ceiling. There were no tiles to count. "I tried to go for a walk. Made it about halfway down the block. Ed's wife came after me and dragged me home like a child."

"Oh, but that's great, Alec." Emily's enthusiasm was genuine.

"You're kidding, right? Next you're telling me I'll run a marathon in a week from now." He hid behind sarcasm because he didn't have a better way to deal with the horror of how crippled his heart disease had left him.

"The messenger who inspired the marathon race did most likely die of cardiopulmonary collapse after he ran that distance, so you'd be in good company." She cocked her head. Her expression was perfectly serious.

Hardy narrowed his eyes and glared at her. "'S not funny," he growled.

Smirking, she said, "For someone who recites Hamlet in a nightdress with a monkey skull, you have a poor sense of humor."

"What? How do you –" He broke off and cursed Duncan under his breath. Emily sniggered.

"Seriously though, it is progress that you made it out of the house. Three days ago, you were barely able to go to the loo by yourself."

Hardy's face showed his doubt, but he was willing to let it go. "If you say so."

She pulled the sticky leads off of his chest, together with whatever hair remained after all the abuse he'd endured the past week. Her helping hand eased the pain when he sat up. Slowly, he put on his shirt.

"What's going to happen next?" He drawled out the syllables, his Scottish accent strengthening with his anxiety. He fidgeted with the buttons and they stubbornly resisted his attempts at pushing them through the holes.

"We have to wait. You're not stable enough to have any procedures done at this moment. I'm sorry." The regret in her eyes was hard to take. "I'll get you the information for some cardiac rehab programs you could benefit from. The events of the past month took a serious toll on your heart. It needs time to recover."

He abandoned the buttons and looked up. "Can it?"

She wasn't quick enough to hide her concerned expression. He'd noted it already and he didn't need an answer.

"I see," he muttered.

"No, it's not what you think, Alec." She was trying to make up for the fact that her face had given her away.

He crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "It's all right. 'S not your fault. I should have taken better care of myself. I've got no one to blame but myself."

"This is not about placing blame. You finally succumbed to a disease that could have killed you decades ago. The enormous pressure you've been under was the final trigger for it to surface. It's over. You need to focus on healing so that we can help you."

It sounded so simple coming from her. He couldn't bring himself to burst her bubble. If Ashworth walked free, _nothing_ was over.

She came closer and placed her hand on his shoulder as she always did. "Are you still staying with Ed?"

He nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

"Have you spoken to your daughter yet?" Her quiet question carried so much weight that it made him cave in under it.

"No." He avoided her searching eyes.

"You're not going to tell her, are you?" she stated, disappointment lacing her words.

"I can't," he sighed. "Tess and I... we're separating and if I told Daisy at the same time that I have this bloody heart condition, she'd never forgive her mother."

"Alec, she needs to know. What if you die in the next weeks or months before we can risk the pacemaker insertion? Do you really want her to find out when it's too late?" Emily was harsher than her usual gentle demeanor and it wasn't lost on Hardy.

"That's the whole idea, isn't it? She can't hate her mother when I die. It's as simple as that. Nothing else. And if that means I can't tell her about the heart, then I won't." He smiled sadly at Emily.

She wasn't ready to give up yet. "Don't you think that if she hears about it then, that she'll be mad at her mother for not telling her earlier?"

Hardy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not if she thinks it was me who didn't want her to know. She can direct everything at me and preserve her relationship with her mother."

"That is so bloody stupid that I can't even...," she trailed off, too upset to continue.

If they hadn't long since crossed the boundaries between patient and doctor, Hardy might have been offended. But not now, not after all that she'd done for him. She'd always encouraged him to talk to his family, especially his daughter.

"Daisy is the only thing I have left, and I want her to be happy when I'm gone," he pleaded for her understanding. Apparently though, she wasn't the one who lacked comprehension.

"You don't get it. If you die, she won't be happy. _Because_ you'll be gone," she argued angrily.

"But at least she'll have a parent she loves and doesn't resent." Not like him who had hated his father for what he'd done to his mother.

There was a long silence until Hardy gathered all his courage. He stepped up to her. Placing his hand on her elbow, he asked timidly, "Can I... Can I give you a hug?" He wasn't sure if that was overstepping the boundaries, but it felt like the right thing to do. She looked up at him with wide eyes, shuffling from one foot to the other. Then she nodded. His long arms wrapped around her.

He held her tightly and whispered in her ear, "Thank you for all you've done. You saved my life. Your father would be proud of you."

When he let her go, she wiped at her teary eyes. He tugged on one of his burning ears and smiled. A faint blush made her look even younger.

"When do I have to come again?" he distracted from his own awkwardness.

"End of next week." She scribbled the date on a business card and told him to make the appointment while walking out.

"I'll see you then," he said his goodbye and left before either one of them could get soppier.

The taxi cab took its sweet time and he paced slowly up and down the sidewalk. She had saved his life, a life that was in pieces. This afternoon he'd tell his daughter another lie about his health and that her parents were splitting up. He hoped she'd forgive him one day.

* * *

Daisy and Tess were waiting for him in the kitchen. Tess had warned Daisy that her father might look a bit the worse for wear. Or at least that was what Hardy assumed Tess had shared with Daisy.

Hardy stopped at the doorway, leaning against it and taking in the sight that used to warm his heart. Now, it was unbearable to see them huddled together at the table. They hadn't heard him come in. He cleared his throat and their heads came up.

"Dad!" How he had missed hearing those three letters. Daisy jumped up and ran toward him. He braced himself for the impact, using the doorframe as support. Her body hit him hard. The familiar scent, the shape, the warmth – it was too much, and his heart stuttered. He winced and inhaled sharply, slouching more against the wall. Tess had noticed. She'd stepped up and put a hand on Daisy's back.

"Sweetheart, give your Dad some room to breathe," she said gently, her eyes locked with Hardy's. There was more kindness in them than he'd seen in a long time. He looked away, placing a soft kiss on Daisy's head. Then he carefully loosened her tightly wrapped arms.

"Darlin', your Dad's a bit banged up. Gotta be gentle with your old man," he whispered into her ear. She looked up. Smiling, he wiped her tears away with his thumb. "Your mother and I have to talk to you about something important."

He pushed off the doorframe and led her to the table, his hand resting on her shoulder. He sat down slowly and Daisy glanced at him worriedly. Tess took a chair next to her, leaving him facing the two of them. He couldn't help but feel like being put on the stand.

Daisy was still staring at him. He put on the most encouraging expression he could.

"'M fine, Daisy," he reassured her.

An angry frown crept onto her forehead and she turned to her mother.

"Why didn't you tell me Dad had an accident right when it happened?" she yelled at Tess. Her anger was tangible and Hardy felt awful about the story they'd come up with.

"We didn't want to worry you," Tess explained weakly.

"You lied to me!" Daisy exclaimed. "You said he was too busy with work to call me. And all this time he was in hospital. You didn't even go there. How can you leave him hanging like that?"

Hardy flinched. This was exactly what he had meant to avoid. With a heavy heart, he embarked on what he knew would hurt their relationship, but he hoped would save Tess and Daisy's instead. "Darlin', I told your mother not to say anything to you."

"Why?"

"Because I thought you'd be too upset about it. It was my decision to keep it from you," he answered, looking her in the eye. His words were true, although they didn't apply to his invented car accident.

She glared at him. "I'm not a child any more, Dad. Mum always says you can't wrap your mind around that and I guess she's right."

The disappointment in her voice was a direct hit and Hardy dropped his gaze. Yet another stab from Tess. A week ago, he would have been puzzled, but now it all made perfect sense.

"'M sorry," he mumbled.

"Whatever," Daisy snapped and crossed her arms over her chest.

Tess put a hand on her elbow, but she shrugged it off. Tess found his eyes and he nodded. It was time. There was no reason to drag it out.

"Sweetheart, your Dad and I… we've been having some problems," Tess began. Daisy's eyes widened and flicked back and forth between them. Hardy stayed silent. He had no words.

"What does that mean? That you've been fighting a lot?" Daisy asked.

"That's part of it," Tess confirmed. Daisy looked scared and Hardy's heart fell.

"Daisy, your father and I will be separating," Tess stated simply but firmly, despite the tremble in her voice. Hardy suppressed a choked noise. It was the first time he'd heard it too.

Tears started to well up in his daughter's eyes. "Dad?" she cried and he was reminded of all the times she'd been hurt and had looked to him for consolation. He couldn't give her any.

It was the worst moment of his life.

"'M sorry, darlin'," he apologized softly. "It's not your fault. I love you and your Mum loves you, and this has nothing to do with you. We're…" He faltered. What could he tell her that wasn't a lie?

"We're not good for each other any more," Tess finished his sentence. He hung his head. It was too painful to look at them. For very different reasons though. Tess' stoic expression hurt, but Daisy's desperate face was killing him. His heart stuttered, skipped a few beats, and then after a long pause picked up with a thud that nearly took him down. He moaned and slumped onto the table.

 _Bollocks_. If he passed out right now, it all would have been in vain. All the lies, all the effort, and his whole plan would go down the drain because Daisy would hate her mother for leaving her ill father. He willed his body to hang in there and lifted his head.

They both stared at him with wide eyes. "Alec?" Tess questioned with more concern in her voice than she'd had when he had told her the first time that something was not right with his heart. The irony of the situation distracted him enough from the pain in his chest to be able to talk.

"It's okay," he rasped. "Feeling a bit dizzy. I hit my head in the accident." He made up another excuse on the spot and hoped that Daisy would buy it. She squinted at him, but then turned her attention back to her mother.

"What do you mean by you're not good for each other? You're my Mum and Dad, you've been together forever and all of sudden you don't like each other any more? I don't understand," she sobbed, her tears flowing freely now.

Tess blinked away some of her own tears and reached out to stroke Daisy's hair. Her smile was full of sorrow for their child. "Sweetheart, we've grown apart. It's sad and we both didn't want for that to happen, but it did. We've thought about this for a while, and it's best for us to go our separate ways."

Hardy was screaming inside as he listened to Tess. _He_ hadn't thought about it for a while, but _she_ must have. _Five months_. She'd been cheating on him for five bloody months. He pressed the heels of his hands on his eyeballs in a desperate attempt not to lose composure.

"Does that mean we have to move? I don't want to -"

Hardy lifted his head and faced his distraught daughter. "Daisy, I'm leaving," he cut her off roughly. "You and Mum will stay here. But I'm -"

He never got a chance to finish his sentence. As soon as he'd uttered the words 'I'm leaving', Daisy thrusted her chair back so hard it fell over and stormed out of the kitchen. She thumped up the stairs and the slam of her door echoed through the house.

Hardy sat at the table and stared at the imperfections in the wood. They swam out of focus, blurred by his tears and his failing vision. The world around him started to collapse and shrink in on him. His mind went blank, and he realized too late that his heart wasn't able to handle the onslaught of his daughter's anguish and fury. He slid off the chair, having lost anything to hold onto. Emptiness was filling him, surrounding him with the promise of ending the pain. He was drowning, and this time he didn't fight it. Until a hot burning pain on his face jolted him back to the surface. His eyes flew open and he gasped for air.

"Don't you dare fucking die on me, Alec Hardy!" Tess hissed in his ear and slapped him again. His head jerked to the side with the impact of her hand.

"Where are those bloody pills?" she muttered and patted him down. She fished them out of his pocket and shoved two into his mouth. "If you don't swallow, I'll slap you again," she threatened. Her fierce blue eyes were the only thing he could focus on. He gagged down the tablets and tried to stay awake. His head was cradled in her lap and she stroked his hair. A tear fell on his forehead and then another on his cheek. It mixed with his own and they cried together until the storm inside stilled and his heart could find the strength to go on.

She helped him to his wobbly feet and led him to the door. They sat together on the stairs, waiting for the taxi cab.

"When the day comes, will you take care of her?" he asked with a trembling voice, unable to hide his fear. His elbows were resting on his knees and his hands dangled between his legs. It helped to breathe, sitting leaned forward like that.

Her arm curled around his back and she rested her head on his slumped shoulders. "Oh, Alec. Of course I will," she whispered, her quiet voice choked up with tears.

"Will you tell her, I love her, always?" he asked, hoping for Tess to use the words that his daughter knew meant goodbye. He felt her nod against his body. Her other hand squeezed his tightly and they sat in silence until his ride arrived. She helped him into the car and brushed his hair out of his face. Her fingers trailed along his temple and lingered for a moment. He looked up at her and their eyes met.

"Goodbye, Tess," he said.

"Goodbye, Alec," she echoed.

Then she closed the door gently. He didn't look back when the taxi drove off, but he watched her in the side mirror as long as he could.

* * *

Tess didn't move until the car was long gone. She'd said goodbye to her husband of almost fifteen years, leaving him in his darkest hour. She'd hurt him so much that he might never forgive her and she hated herself for that. The guilt over betraying Alec was weighing on her heavily. There was no excuse for what she'd done. One day she hoped she'd be strong enough to apologize to him for accusing him of driving her into the arms of another man. She hung her head in shame, wondering for the millionth time what had happened to them. The love she'd once felt for this man had withered away and would never come back. She wished it could have been different. Having to tell their child was the worst moment of her life. On this day, she'd not only said goodbye to Alec, she'd said goodbye to their family and it broke her heart. But not as much as it had broken the heart of the man she once called her soulmate. Eventually, she turned and slowly walked toward the house she couldn't quite call home any longer.

* * *

Hardy told the driver to take the long way home. If he couldn't drive himself, maybe being in a car could help calm him. He stared at the buildings and cars that were passing by. It didn't bring him any solace. Not this time. He'd lost everything, and his only hope was that his desperate plan would work out and Daisy would be taken care of. Tess had promised. He didn't need to hear her say it, although it had made it easier. They had said goodbye. He already missed her, despite everything that had happened. The streets blurred with his tears and he thought back to a day weeks ago when he'd cried in his car for the first time in an eternity. He'd felt it then, but hadn't been able to name it. Now he could: a broken heart. The corner of his mouth pulled up to a sad smile. Daisy would be horrified by the degree of soppiness, but it was the most fitting thing that came to mind. The odds were against it, but he hoped that one day he'd be able to tell her that his heart was mended.

He told the driver to take him back to Baxter's house. He sneaked inside, seeking solitude after his long day. It didn't last very long.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Baxter had stuck his head in.

Hardy buried his face in a pillow and grunted "No". The mattress moved under Baxter's weight. Then there was tug on the pillow. He held on tighter.

Baxter sighed. "Fine. We don't have to. I brought you my laptop so that you can distract yourself and work on those case files we talked about. You'll have to set up a new account with a new password to get into the database. Have you done that before?"

Hardy peeked out from beneath the pillow. The undertone in Baxter's voice had caught his curiosity.

"I have a remote access account. Why would I have to create a new one?"

"Erm... we all had to recently. Security I guess." Baxter was a surprisingly bad liar.

Hardy tossed the pillow aside and sat up. "I assume you have a reason for not telling me the truth?"

"Seriously? Why would I lie to you about this?" Baxter stood, running from Hardy's scrutinizing stare.

"I dunno. That's why I'm asking," Hardy snapped, losing his patience.

"Alec, just do what I told you to and let it go. Would you please?" Baxter pleaded exasperatedly.

Hardy glared at him, but was willing to concede. He didn't care too much about the IT shenanigans of the constabulary. He snatched the laptop, embracing the idea of distraction. The screen brightened and the familiar logo of the South Mercia Police Force flickered to life.

"How did she take it?"

Hardy's fingers stilled over the keyboard. He didn't move his eyes from the insignia of the place that was his second home.

"What do you think? She ran out on me as soon as she heard that I'll be moving out. I couldn't get a word in." He snapped the laptop shut and shoved it aside.

Baxter was leaning against the wall, observing Hardy thoughtfully.

"Don't look at me like that," Hardy snarled. He scrambled to his feet and started circling the bed like a caged animal. Baxter was still watching him. Then he picked up Hardy's coat and tossed it at a surprised Hardy.

"Come," he ordered him and left the room.

Hardy had no idea what Baxter had in mind, but he felt so trapped in the room that he followed without protest. Baxter got into the car and so did Hardy. They rode in silence until Hardy figured out where his friend was taking him.

"No. I don't want to go there," he objected when Baxter turned onto the small road that would take them to the river.

Baxter hit the brakes hard. Hardy was out of the car before Baxter could even stall the engine. He made it about a hundred yards down the gravelly path before he collapsed against a tree. Baxter ran after him, shouting, "You're already there, Alec. You never left."

When Baxter had caught up with a panting Hardy, he continued, "You never told me what happened that day you pulled Pippa from the river and you don't have to. But I see it eating away at you, and not going there isn't going to fix things. You either face it or you'll keep on running from it. It'll only grow bigger and bigger until it's going to crush you. Do you hear me?"

Hardy slid down the tree, curling in on himself. His long arms wrapped around his head and he tugged his knees as close to his chest as he could. If he could only contain himself this one time, maybe he'd have a chance at not falling apart.

Baxter plopped down next to him and pulled him against his solid body. "You can do this, Alec. I know you can. It will take time and it will hurt, but you'll get through this."

Panic was rising in Hardy. "I need to get away from here," he rasped.

Baxter pushed him away gently and found his eyes. "I've talked to Duncan. We both think it might be a good idea for you to stay with him for a bit so that you can rest and clear your thoughts. Things might get ugly here if the press digs deeper. It might be better if you were out of their reach."

"But what about Daisy?" The despair in his voice made Baxter cringe.

"She can visit or you can come up here. You'll have to see Emily anyway,' Baxter suggested.

"Can't I stay with you?" Hardy begged.

"Of course you can. But as you said, I think you need to get away from it all. And while you're at my house and in Sandbrook, you're too close. You won't find the peace you need."

It almost made sense. "But I'd be running."

"Sometimes running is all right," Baxter encouraged softly. "To find a safe spot to regroup. And after that happens you can come back and we'll figure everything else out."

Hardy leaned against the tree, tilting his head back. The light of the setting sun flickered through the thick roof of the lush green leaves. The day was ending. A new one was coming.

He picked himself up, rejecting Baxter's hand and using his thighs as leverage instead. He could do it on his own. "I'll get my things in order at the station and then I'll leave," he said.

Baxter nodded in agreement. Hardy stumbled over the root of the tree and Baxter's strong arm caught him. Hardy shook him off as soon as he had found his balance.

"Don't push me away," Baxter said quietly. "I know you can do it, but that doesn't mean you _have to_."

Hardy looked into the caring eyes of the man that had become so much more than his mentor and superior. Then he nodded and placed his hand on Baxter's shoulder. Together they walked back to the car and away from the river.

* * *

Saturday passed slowly. Hardy busied himself with fixing his documentation. It was unnerving that he'd fall asleep every time he worked on it. He hated how debilitated he was. When Emma pointed out that he'd gone from thirty minutes to being able to work for almost two hours, he looked at her in surprise. He hadn't noticed. She patted his back.

"It's a process, Alec. Use your stubbornness to your advantage without pushing yourself too much," she said with a smile.

"I'm not stubborn," he growled in mock indignation.

Emma chuckled. "I'll tell my Dad. He might get a laugh out of it. He could use one."

Hardy frowned at her. "How is he doing?" Sudden guilt over the mess that he had dragged Baxter into washed through him.

Emma shot him a sheepish glance. "He's okay. Tired and grumpy, but all right. I think he's embracing the need to figure out a plan B."

"Plan B?" Hardy was just as confused as when Duncan had mentioned it.

"You know, what to do if you don't die. You _did_ think about one, didn't you?" Emma asked suspiciously.

Hardy's mouth gaped open. _Shit._ They hadn't. And knowing himself, he'd survive out of mere spite. They were screwed.

Emma saw his perplexed expression and started laughing. "Oh my god, you haven't. You guys are unbelievable. And my Dad of all people should have known better than to listen to the doctors. They always tell that you're going to die. You know how often they told me?" She shook her head in amusement.

It wasn't funny though. Not even in a ghastly way. He hadn't given one thought to what would happen if he made it. _Fuck._ He raked his fingers through his hair, scraping at his scalp. It was too late now. Things had been set in motion. The stutter in his chest reminded him that Emma's optimistic outlook might be wrong after all. He fished the pills out of his pocket and swallowed them absentmindedly. Something else registered with him.

"How do you know about... our plan?" He squinted at her. It wasn't something they'd been going around advertising.

She blushed. "Erm... I overheard my Dad telling Mum. It was unintentional, I swear."

Hardy sighed. "Right. You haven't told anyone, have you?" She was friends with Daisy.

"Of course not," she replied indignantly. "It's a shit plan by the way. I mean, noble and such, but still a shit plan."

"Excuse me?"

"Not telling Daisy so that she won't hate her mother. If I were her, I'd be so mad. You probably don't want to be around when she finds out about it."

"The idea is that I won't be," he stated drily.

Emma stared at him. Suddenly, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"I hope she gets to yell at you until your ears fall off," she whispered into his ear. Then she let go of him and stormed out of the room.

Hardy's gaze lingered after her. They were both wiping tears away.

"I hope so too," he mumbled under his breath when he turned back to fixing a case that was beyond fixing.

* * *

The following day, Hardy finished what he could get done remotely. He'd made sure his documentation was clear, concise and comprehensive. There couldn't be any mistakes or items left for question. Baxter took him to the office to complete his task.

It was late on Sunday afternoon and the station was deserted, exactly what Hardy had hoped for. He hadn't been back since that fateful Thursday evening, but Baxter had urged him to make sure everything pertinent to the case was squared away.

Baxter had dropped him off and had left him to himself. He was alone on the CID floor. The lights were dim in the main office and he had only turned on his reading lamp. Last time he'd sat on this chair, his wife was about to unleash hell upon him. He stared at her desk through the open door. It was cleared out already. All the pictures of him and Daisy were gone. He couldn't see Thompson's desk behind the partition. Propping his elbows on the wooden surface, he rested his face in his palms and then vigorously rubbed his fingers over his eyes and cheeks, dragging them down all the way to his neck. There was no need for procrastination. Baxter hadn't told him to clear out his desk, so he focused on going through all the files and paperwork that had accumulated throughout the investigation.

Three long hours later, his task was done. It had been the longest stretch of work he'd been able to handle since his heart had stopped. He was exhausted. It felt good though. He was almost sufficiently distracted not to think of Tess and Daisy all the time. He texted Baxter that he was ready to be picked up. Slowly, he pushed himself up and trudged over to the men's room. He passed by Craig Murphy's office. Light filtered through the crack underneath the door together with a muffled conversation. Hardy wondered what he could be doing here on a Sunday night.

When he came back to the CID floor, Baxter was waiting for him.

"That was fast. Have you been lurking around the neighborhood?" Hardy grumbled teasingly.

Baxter rolled his eyes. "No. Just staying close by because you can't be trusted."

"Seriously?" Hardy didn't even dignify his remark with an eye roll.

Baxter shrugged and grinned. "Are you ready? Louise has prepared some rabbit food for you. I assume you didn't feed yourself since you left our house earlier today."

"I'm not an invalid, Ed. I can take care of myself," Hardy sighed.

"Did you eat?" Baxter asked curtly.

"No," Hardy admitted and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Baxter raised his eyebrow and shook his head. He muttered something about Hardy being a lost cause and shooed him out of the main office.

They were waiting for the elevator when Baxter realized he'd forgotten his keys and hurried back. Hardy paced back and forth slowly, enjoying the fact that he could pace at all. A pinging sound announced the arrival of the elevator and the doors opened.

Dave Thompson paled at the sight of Hardy.

Hardy froze at the sight of Thompson.

"DI Har-" Thompson began but was never able to finish his sentence.

Hardy punched him in the face. The force of his swing took Hardy forward and his cracked ribs protested. He toppled onto Thompson who fell back against the now closed elevator doors. Blood trickled onto Hardy's shirt. Thompson's broken nose was swelling. Hardy so wanted to land another hit, but he was already gasping for air. His heart pounded away erratically in his aching chest and he could barely breathe. His legs buckled, and to his utmost anger, he realized that fucking Dave Thompson was slowing his fall and supporting him.

"Get your bloody hands off me," Hardy croaked and elbowed Thompson hard into his side. Thompson huffed and let go. Hardy struggled to stay upright, his vision turning blurry. He blinked and figured he might as well end it right here and now. He aimed for another punch when strong hands dragged him away from Thompson.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Craig Murphy's boyish voice sounded disturbed.

"Keep out of this," Hardy wheezed and tried to free himself. He was too far gone to be reasonable at this point. Thompson's figure was spinning together with the room, and all that Hardy wanted to do was to land one more hit that would make his pain go away. He lunged forward, escaping Murphy's feeble grasp. Sadly, his tackle was intercepted by Baxter's sturdy body. Baxter caught Hardy against his chest and embraced his shaking friend.

"Let go of me," Hardy cried weakly.

"No, Alec." Baxter tightened his arms around him. "Murphy get Thompson out of here."

Hardy registered peripherally that Murphy led Thompson toward the men's room. The adrenaline that had kept him going left his body as quickly as it had come, and all strength seeped out of him. Baxter was still holding him, but his grip had eased into a gentle hug. Hardy sagged against his friend, sucking in one shuddering breath after the other. He couldn't calm down and neither could his heart.

Baxter tugged his head against his chest and cradled it in his arm. "It's all right, Alec. Don't hold it in. I'm here for you," Baxter muttered into Hardy's ear. A dam broke and angry tears came with the flood. Hardy's muffled scream echoed through the empty hallway.

Baxter held Hardy until the trembling stopped and Hardy had found some balance again. Eventually, he walked him out of the station with a strong arm wrapped around Hardy's shoulders. They rode in silence. When they reached Baxter's house, Hardy stalled Baxter before they went in.

"I really wanted to hurt him," Hardy admitted, his eyes cast down.

"I know." Baxter's voice was neutral.

"Thanks for holding me back." Hardy meant it.

Baxter smiled and patted Hardy's arm. "Don't mention it. You needed to let go." Then he tilted his head. "You hit harder than I thought you could with your skinny arse."

Hardy snorted. "I grew up in Glasgow. What do you think happens on the streets there? You're either fast or you hit hard. I could never run…," he trailed off and it dawned on him why. "Bloody heart!" he growled.

Baxter chuckled. "No, you don't run. And that's what I like about you." He nudged him toward the entrance. "Let's go eat."

Hardy nodded and followed his friend who had saved him from himself once again.

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter was incredibly emotional to write. The house scene left me in tears and even now that I've read it so many times I still cry. I hope you, my dear readers, will feel I did it justice as we all knew it was coming. Telling your child that you won't be living together any more is one of the hardest things in life to do. It's heartbreaking for everyone involved and the loss of that family rips you apart, no matter who is leaving who or why. There are no winners, everyone loses in the process. But sometimes it's necessary, and after the healing takes place, people might be able to see that. Maybe even Alec.

We are almost at the end of this part in Hardy's journey. But there is more to come... I want to once again thank HAZELMIST for all her patience, insight and support. She's currently suffering from feels implosion ("I CANT HANDLE THIS!DSAJFKLDJSAKFLDJSAKL"), but I paid her off with that scene she'd been waiting to read for months now as she knew Alec was going to punch Dave in the face. I have to admit, I did find it satisfying to finally write it ;-)

Thanks again everyone for sticking with this saga. As I said this part is closing but there are still gaps to fill about how he got to Broadchurch. And then there is "The Ocean Breathes Salty" where healing finally might take place. The last chapter should be up within the next days.


	45. CHAPTER 44

**A/N:** Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Yes, my dear readers, we are. Finally (Please see closing notes at the end of the epilogue.)

* * *

 **CHAPTER 44**

Hardy decided to leave Sandbrook on Tuesday. He left a message for Tess, letting her know he'd be staying at Duncan's for a while. All that was left for him to do was to gather some of his belongings from his house. It was Monday afternoon and nobody should be home.

Baxter pulled up in Hardy's driveway.

"And you're really okay with going in there by yourself?" Baxter asked, doubt lacing his words.

Hardy undid the buckle and carefully turned in the seat. The rib fractures were healing, but he was still sore. "I'll be fine, Ed. I only need a few things. And before you start – I won't do any heavy lifting," he sighed and unfolded his long legs out the door.

"Why don't you want me to come inside?" Baxter persisted.

"I'm not an invalid. I can take care of myself," Hardy insisted grouchily. He tried to hide the sudden bout of dizziness

Baxter snorted. "Yah, I can see that."

"Please Ed, don't make this harder than it has to be." Hardy avoided Baxter's scrutinizing eyes. "I don't want to run into Tess. I need you to watch out for me," he added weakly.

"I'm always watching out for you, Alec," Baxter replied softly and handed him the empty holdall they'd brought. "Holler if you need me. I've got my phone."

Hardy nodded and walked the few yards to the house he couldn't quite call home any longer. The distance seemed farther than it should have. He hesitated for a moment before he turned the key.

The door swung open and he stepped into the hallway. Despite everything having changed, everything in here was painfully the same. The smell, the light, the warmth. His shoes and coats were all where he'd left them. Even Daisy's book bag was there. Hardy stared at it blankly until it sank in.

 _Shitshitshit_. Daisy was home. He wondered if he had enough time to leave without being noticed, but it was too late.

"Dad?" she called out before he could escape. She was standing on the stairs, anxiously peering down at him.

"Hello darlin'," he greeted her, his voice rough. He hadn't talked to her since he and Tess had sat down with her on Friday. His heart rate was up and his legs felt like jelly. He carefully put down the bag he was holding and braced himself against the wall, barely disguising his weakness. The lie about the accident was weighing heavily on him, but he hadn't had it in him to break her heart twice in one day.

"Why are you here?" she asked hoarsely. He followed her gaze which was fixed on the bag.

He looked up and their eyes locked. Rays of sun filtered in through the skylight behind her and cast a deep shadow over her face. It was impossible to tell if her tears were born from anger or sadness. He feared it was both.

"Daisy, I came to pick –"

She turned on her heels and stormed up the stairs to her room. The loud door slam made Hardy's aching body twitch. He gave her and himself a few minutes to calm down before he dared undertaking the daunting task of climbing up those steps he used to take two at a time. He had to pause twice, but he made it.

Resting his forehead on her door, he knocked gently. There was no answer. His clenched fist rapped the wood again.

"Daisy, open up," he pleaded. His knuckles were still touching the door. His other hand came up and he placed his palm flush against the smooth surface as if this could bring her closer.

"Go away. I don't wanna talk," she growled from inside. Hardy squeezed his eyes shut, his hanging head supported by the door.

"Please, darlin', let me in. Just give me five minutes," he begged. Daisy's fury hadn't lessened and he couldn't blame her. In his more energetic moments he shared the sentiment.

"No!" she yelled. "And don't you dare use that stupid ladder. I'm not going to open the bloody window."

She didn't need to tell him. He couldn't have. Not this time. She was beyond his abilities to reach her and it hurt. He would have given anything to be able to climb that ladder, but his broken heart wouldn't let him.

Hardy's eyes burned. He turned around, resting his back against the wooden barrier that guarded his daughter. His legs gave out under him and he slid down the door. It was too much to handle. If he had expected her to be home, he never would have come. The hallway was spinning and the tugging in his left arm demanded his attention. He dug through his pockets and produced the white chalky pills that were the only thing that stood between him and the end of the pain. It was tempting not to take them, but he couldn't do to Daisy what his mother had done to him. He gagged them down and waited for his heart to settle.

He must have dozed off because he startled when he fell backwards. Daisy had finally opened the door. Too addled, he tipped over and thudded hard onto the floor. A groan escaped his throat when a sharp stab in his side reminded him of how debilitated his body was.

He opened his eyes and blinked away the blurriness. Daisy was standing tall above him, her face framed by her long flowing hair and the soft light that filtered through the window. She stooped down and brushed his fringe out of his face.

"You look like shit, Dad," she remarked sternly and helped him to sit up.

"Language." It came out as a wheeze when she pulled too hard and the broken ribs protested. She huffed and left him to catch his breath, thumping down the stairs. By the time she returned, he had made it to his feet, climbing up his legs with his hands and pushing himself to stand. She dropped the holdall in front of him.

"What do you need?" she wanted to know.

He found her eyes. "To talk to you," he answered insecurely. She held his gaze until she suddenly lunged herself at him, tackling him with a tight embrace. He didn't have the strength to catch her and they both tumbled onto her bed. She never let go though. She curled up against him, sobbing into his side while he stroked her hair. His own tears burned his cheeks.

"I'm still here, darlin'. Not going anywhere." He choked on his words, a flutter in his chest naming him a liar. "It's going to be all right," he murmured over and over again, not knowing who he was consoling more, his daughter or himself.

* * *

Daisy's tears ebbed away together with her sobs. She disentangled herself from her father's embrace. He had fallen asleep, breathing heavily. Daisy took a closer look at him. He was so pale and haggard under his stubbly beard. There was a new scar on the right side of his neck that was exposed with his head lolled to the side.

She brushed it with her fingertips, restraining the anger that they hadn't told her he'd been in an accident until he came back from his trip to Portsmouth. They hadn't shared any details, but judging from her father's appearance it must have been pretty significant. He had lost more weight. She hated that they treated her like a child and kept secrets from her. Like that they had been planning on separating for some time now. At least that was what her mother had said while her father was sitting there, mute with his head hanging low.

Something buzzed and tickled her side. It was her father's phone. It stopped and then started up again. She fished it out of his coat pocket and peeked at the caller ID – Ed Baxter. After much probing, her mother had finally told her that her father was staying with the Baxters. When it rang a third time, she picked it up.

"Hi?" she piped timidly into the speaker.

"Who's this?" Baxter sounded confused.

"Daisy," she responded curtly.

"Daisy? What are you... never mind. Is your dad all right?" Daisy was surprised by the clear worry in Baxter's voice.

"Yeah," Daisy replied, but then reconsidered. She actually didn't know if he was okay. When she had opened her door he fell into her room like a dead weight and was moaning in pain. And she had easily toppled him over with her hug. Questioning what the hell was really going on, she added, "At least I think he's fine. He fell asleep. Why do you sound so freaked out?"

There was silence on the other end. Then she heard a knock at the door. "Daisy, could you let me in please?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You guys should think of a new line. The part about opening the door gets a bit old."

"Daisy, please. I need to check –" Baxter stopped abruptly. When he continued, his tone had changed, trying to hide the concerned urgency his words had carried. "I would like to speak with your dad."

Daisy frowned. Her eyes fell on the sleeping figure on her bed. She stepped closer, suddenly worried. His breathing had become more labored and his face was ashen. Gently, she shook his shoulder, but he didn't stir.

"I'm coming down. Don't leave," she shouted anxiously into the phone. She hurried to the door, tripping over the steps in her haste.

"Why is he not waking up?" she threw at Baxter as soon as she opened the door.

Baxter put his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length. He bent down to meet her face to face. "Daisy, where is he?" he asked with a forced calmness that wasn't reflected in his steely eyes.

"In my bed upst –" He shoved his way past her and sprinted up the stairs before she could even finish. By the time she had caught up with him, he was hunched over her father with a hand resting on his neck.

"For fuck's sake," he cursed under his breath. He ran his other hand through his hair, muttering to himself.

"Mr. Baxter, what's wrong with Dad?" she demanded to know, her voice trembling.

Baxter spun around and stared at her. He took in a breath as if to say something but then didn't. His eyes darted back and forth between her and her father and Daisy wondered what was going on behind those grey eyes. It scared her to see him like that. To her, he was this man who would always tease her father and never lose his cool. But now he seemed so far away from that person and so worried about her father.

Baxter let go of her father and stepped up to her. "Daisy, sweetheart, your dad –"

"'M fine, Ed." Her father's Scottish growl had never sounded as pleasant as it did in that moment. Propping himself up on his elbow, he was slumped over on the bed. His shoulders were heaving with deep breaths, but his color was better.

"Dad!" she called out and hurled herself into his arms. She tried not to cry, but she was too riled up. Everything around her was falling apart. Her family was in shambles, her mother was too distracted to take notice of her needs, and her father had left her only to return resembling a ghostly shadow of himself. And nobody _talked_ to her.

"'M fine, darlin'," he whispered into her ear, holding her tight.

"No, you're not," she argued, her voice muffled against his shirt. He even smelled differently. He gently pushed her away, far enough that he could look her in the eye.

"I'm a bit groggy from the pain medications they've been giving me. That's all. I'm sorry I scared you, darlin'," he said, smiling. There was no doubt in her mind that he had forced it. Baxter huffed and her father shot him a sharp glance.

"You're lying." She watched him falter. "You told me that you're not well and now you come home, looking like a dead man walking, and you expect me to believe this shit!" she spewed at his pale face that was clearly so much thinner than a week ago.

"Darlin', please, don't," he breathed, passing his hand over his tired eyes. Daisy didn't miss the tremble.

Baxter had come up behind her and clasped her shoulder. He turned her around and stooped down, so that she was taller than him. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Daisy, listen to me. I know you're having a hard time right now. So is your dad. He's recovering from some serious injuries and he's exhausted from working that bloody case. Give him some time, all right?" Baxter said softly. He smiled and took her hand. "I promise you I'm taking care of him and you don't need to worry. I know he can't be trusted with himself, he's not leaving my sight."

Daisy stared into those grey-blue eyes, and to her relief they were filled with the sincerity she had been lacking from her parents. She nodded in acknowledgement. Turning to her father, she caught him crying his palms and long fingers barely hiding his tears. It broke her heart to see him like this. She didn't understand why he was leaving. Nothing that her parents had told her had made sense to her. She understood even less, why she had to stay behind, why she couldn't be with him. Anger was creeping up on her again and despite feeling utterly shaken by the sight of her broken father, a furrow etched itself onto her forehead.

Her father wiped clumsily at his cheeks. "'M sorry," he muttered under his ragged breaths. "I really am. I don't want this Daisy, but that's how it has to be for now. I'm not abandoning you, please believe me. I just can't be with your mother any more." A coughing spell left him panting.

"Why can't I come with you, Dad?" she pleaded. His head snapped up and Daisy was taken aback by the feral look in his eyes.

"Because I've got nowhere to go," he blurted out. He pinched his nose with his fingers, pressing his eyes shut. With a hollow voice, he added, "What I mean is, I don't have a place yet. I need to settle first, then we'll see." He dropped his hand weakly into his lap. Their gazes met. "Daisy, this is your _home_. You should be here and not trailing me in my spiral down to –" He cut himself off abruptly.

"It's not home if you're not here," Daisy stated quietly. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, pulling her into another hug. Snuggled against his chest, she listened to his slow and reassuring heartbeat. His kiss on the top of her head lingered longer than usual.

"I love you, darlin', always. Never forget that," he whispered in her ear when he finally let go and clambered to his feet. He put a hand on Baxter's shoulder, and Daisy was sure it was to steady himself. Baxter maneuvered him down the stairs and out the door while she watched her father leave empty-handed.

Her eyes fell on the holdall on the landing. She swooped down, snatched it up and sprinted after the two men. Her father was already in the car, slouched in the seat with his eyes closed.

"Wait," she hollered. Baxter cocked his head and frowned. She ran inside and dashed upstairs to her parents' bedroom. As quickly as she could, she put all his favorite clothes she could find in the bag. She thudded down the steps and into the living room. She grabbed their favorite movies and tossed them on top. She didn't know what else he would have wanted and she was halfway out the door when she remembered one thing. She hurried into her room and seized the purple unicorn.

By the time she dropped the holdall in front of Baxter, she was out of breath and her father was asleep. Daisy peered up at Baxter and stuck the toy in front of his face.

"Can you give this to Dad? Her name is Lotti, in case you don't remember. She's a girl and a unicorn. She's really good at keeping monsters away. She always helps me feel better, so maybe she can help Dad too? And when he feels better he can bring her back?" Big heavy drops were flowing down her cheeks and her voice was trembling. Baxter regarded the worn stuffed animal and all the steeliness was gone from his glittering eyes.

"Oh, Daisy, how could I ever forget," he said tenderly. He took the purple unicorn and carefully cradled it in his arm. Then he pulled her close and held her tight until her tears had dried. She reluctantly left his embrace and stepped away.

"You promise to take care of him?" she asked solemnly.

Baxter nodded. "I promise," he assured her equally sincere. He gave her one last look and got into the car.

Daisy stared at the street long after they were gone. Then she turned and slowly walked into the house she couldn't quite call home any longer.

* * *

Baxter placed Lotti on Hardy's nightstand. When Hardy walked in, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"She gave this to you?" he wondered, picking up the worn toy. He ran his fingers through the fluffy mane of the unicorn.

"She did. It's for you, to keep the monsters away. It comes with a string attached though."

Hardy frowned at him. "And what would that be?"

"You have to return it once you're better." Their eyes met.

He fell heavily onto the bed, clutching the purple animal to his chest. "Ed, can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Sure," Baxter invited him, puzzling over what was going on inside Hardy's head.

"Can you keep an eye on her? When I'm gone?"

"Alec, you're not going far. And you'll be back next –" Baxter fell silent when he noted Hardy's desperate expression. He was referring to a very different _'gone'_ than what Baxter had had in mind.

He sat down next to him, placing his hand on Hardy's shoulder. He clasped it tightly, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"I promise I will take care of her."

Hardy took in a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears in his eyes.

"Thank you. It means a lot," he whispered hoarsely.

They sat together in silence until Louise called them for supper. Hardy gently tucked Lotti into the bag that Daisy had hastily scrambled together. He brushed over the fluffy toy. A smile danced over his face. Then he closed the zipper and it was gone. He hung his head and trudged out of the room.

Baxter lingered for a moment. He stared at the holdall, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. Then he wiped them away vigorously, inhaled deeply and stood.

When he left, he hissed at the bag, "You better do your job!" Then he hurried out of the room as quickly as he could, never to admit that he'd just threatened a stuffed purple unicorn. _Bloody Alec Hardy._

* * *

Hardy woke in the dark with a sputter and a scream. He propped himself up on his elbows, catching his breath. The room was closing in on him. Light filtered in from under the door. He glanced at his phone. It was after two o'clock in the morning. No use in trying to go back to sleep. He was too unsettled. Slowly, he got up and padded out into the hallway.

He found Baxter working in his study, hunched over his computer.

"You're up late," he commented, peeking over Baxter's shoulder.

Baxter craned his neck to face him. "And you're up early."

Hardy squinted at the screen. "Why are you looking at this case? That was... what? Like two years ago?"

Baxter moved his hand over a sheet of paper, but it was too late. Hardy had already caught a glimpse. It was a list of case files, and from what he had seen, they had all been his investigations.

"What are you doing with those?" he queried in bewilderment. Baxter pulled the sheet away. He blushed and appeared uncomfortable. Suddenly, it all fell into place.

"You're looking into my record." Hardy's voice broke with the pitch shift. "I thought you trusted me!" he shouted, his temper flaring together with his heart rate.

"Alec, please calm down," Baxter urged him. "It's not what you think it is."

"Oh, so what is it then? You randomly start pulling the cases I was SIO on and you don't want me to get upset. What is this? A witch hunt?" He was panting and tightly gripping the back of Baxter's chair. The letters on the screen blurred.

"No, it's not a witch hunt," Baxter defended himself tiredly. He rubbed his eyes, stood up and pushed Hardy onto his seat. "Sit. I need to tell you something. I was going to wait until you return, but..." he trailed off and sucked in some air.

"Alec, we figured out how the press got their information."

Hardy looked up in surprise. "Who was it?"

"We don't know. What I said was we found out _how_ ," Baxter corrected him. Hardy was puzzled.

"You've been targeted." It was a simple statement, but Hardy didn't understand.

"What do you mean?"

"Murphy and your friend Alistair Murray are quite the nerds. It paid off though. After the Carter case incident in Glasgow, they kept a track on files related to you. Apparently, they were not the only ones. A few days ago, someone accessed our database to snoop into the current investigation. We believe that must be how Karen White got her information," Baxter explained slowly.

Hardy's eyes widened. "And why do you have a list with all my cases for the past two years?" He didn't want to hear the answer.

"Because Murphy thinks that whoever is behind this has been following your files for at least that time frame." Baxter observed him worriedly. Hardy's throat closed off and he felt short of breath.

"Someone's stalking me? Why?" he wheezed. He fisted his hand in his jumper over his chest. Baxter asked him a question and he realized he hadn't heard him. He tried to focus.

Baxter was shaking him slightly. "Alec, where are your pills?"

"Nightstand," Hardy managed to get out. Baxter left and returned swiftly, pressing two tablets into his palm. Hardy curled his trembling fingers around them, but didn't put them in his mouth.

"Come on. Just take them."

Hardy shook his head slowly. He had had enough. He had been humiliated, hurt and harassed. His wife had thrown away fifteen years of marriage, he had hurt his daughter more than he could have ever imagined, his body was failing, and now this.

"I'm done," he murmured and uncurled his fist. The pills slipped through his limp fingers and bounced off the rug. He slumped over, giving in to the pain in his chest.

Cursing, Baxter caught his fall. He lowered him down onto the floor and scooped up the tablets.

"Alec, if you don't put those pills into your mouth right now and swallow them, I swear I will make you," Baxter yelled at him. Hardy pressed his lips shut. The sting of Baxter's slap loosened them up though, and Baxter used the opportunity to force the medication onto his tongue.

"Don't make me hold your mouth shut until you follow my orders," Baxter threatened sharply. He had put all his authority into his words. Decades of following commands took over, and Hardy gagged down the pills. Baxter held him until the attack subsided and his thoughts cleared.

"Don't you dare do this to me ever again," Baxter whispered in his ear, his voice trembling. There were tears in his eyes and Hardy realized that he'd never seen him cry before, besides that night Baxter had thought his child was dying.

Hardy scrambled to sit up. Baxter lent him a hand, and together they got him to his feet and back in his bed. They didn't speak. When Baxter was about to turn off the light at the door, Hardy finally found his voice.

"I can't do this, Ed. It's too much. I just want it to be over," he admitted in defeat.

"I understand. But I can't let you indulge in those feelings. My job is to protect you from yourself until you can do that without my help." Baxter's sincerity cut through Hardy's addled mind.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I'm such a burden. I –"

Baxter spun around and interrupted Hardy, "You're an idiot not a burden. So, stop saying that and let me take care of you."

Hardy nodded submissively.

"Good. And now – bedtime," Baxter announced sternly and turned off the light.

Hardy curled around his pillow, yet again alone in the dark. He stared into the night, his eyes stinging, until sleep came. He'd be leaving Sandbrook in the morning.

* * *

It was late when Hardy woke the next day. He barely had enough time to gather the few things he was bringing with him. Baxter insisted on taking him to the train station. Hardy had no doubt that he was going to mention what had transpired last night.

He eyed Baxter from the side while they were riding through the streets of the town he'd called home for almost a decade. Baxter was more tight-lipped than usual. The anticipation of having to talk about what he had done, or rather what he had _not_ done, was grating on Hardy's nerves and he lost the battle.

"Ed, about what happened..." He cut himself off, hoping that Baxter would jump in. He didn't. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel harder and stared ahead at the road, ignoring Hardy's attempt at communication. That was new. Normally, the shoe was on the other foot. It made Hardy even antsier. He started fidgeting with the radio, flipping aimlessly from one station to the next, until Baxter placed a hand on his.

"Let it go, Alec," Baxter said softly. He had pulled into the parking lot and now turned his full attention to Hardy who glared at him with wide eyes.

"Fine," Hardy grumbled and withdrew his hand into his lap. Baxter's gaze rested on him, and Hardy wanted to hide from the kindness in it. It made him feel incredibly vulnerable, tearing down the defenses that he was so desperately trying to uphold.

"I'm not talking about the radio. I'm talking about the case and everything that's related to it." His voice was still soft. "You have to forgive yourself for whatever you think you have done."

"How could I? I couldn't save her. And now I can't even give her the justice she deserves," Hardy stammered, his walls crumbling rapidly. "I failed Pippa and her family. I failed Lisa and her mother."

Baxter smiled sadly. "I meant to tell you. Lisa's mother came up to me at the press conference. She was worried about you."

Hardy's mouth gaped open. "Why would she –" He faltered, utterly dumbfounded by the idea that Marilyn Newbery would care about him in this time of sorrow.

"She wanted me to tell you that it's all right. That it's time to take care of yourself now."

Hardy sat there, incredulous and shaken. One hand kneaded his thigh, the other cupped his mouth, and for a brief of moment he thought he smelled the foul river water on it. It was too much to bear. Marilyn Newbery's simple words moved him more than anything else he'd heard since his world had fallen apart. Weariness was threatening to overwhelm him and all he could think about was that he needed to fight and keep on going, even if he'd reached a breaking point. She, however, in her kindness had given him the permission to rest.

"She's right, Alec. You've done enough. You should listen to her and focus on healing," Baxter suggested gently, falling in line with what Marilyn had said.

Hardy remained silent, until he whispered, "I couldn't even _find_ her." The desperation in his own voice was making him cringe.

"I know. And I understand how hard that is. But you won't do her or Pippa any good if you kill yourself over this. You need to stop. You need to think about your daughter and yourself for once and when you are better, then you can come back and put your energy into finding Lisa's body or what happened to her. You need to let go," Baxter implored his friend.

Hardy stared at his hands, palms up and fingers trembling. He could feel the pull of that unmeasurable weight that was dragging him down into the river relentlessly.

"They trusted me with the task to find whoever did this to their children. I violated that trust, Ed. I disrespected the privilege that has been given to me and I failed my duty as a police officer. I couldn't do my job right and see what we are left with." His feral eyes came up and bore into Baxter. "Ashworth has a good chance of walking away as a free man because I wasn't there to make sure everything was done properly. If I hadn't been so stubborn about hiding my condition, Tess would have never been there. It would have been you and –"

Baxter gripped his arm hard. "Stop it!" he ordered sternly. "You are _not_ responsible for what she did." His anger was apparent. "You're not the one who failed their duty as a police officer. She did. She is the one who broke their trust." He paused briefly. Then he added full of sorrow, " _She_ broke _your_ trust."

"How can I ever come back from this?" Hardy's voice broke. The river held him in its claws and he saw no way out. The dark water tugged him along and he was so lost.

Baxter's fingers tightened their hold. It hurt, but it was also a reminder that he wasn't alone. That there was something he could hold onto. Hardy clung to them as hard as he could, dragging himself out of the torrent that was threatening to wash him away with it. He forced himself to look at his friend's worried face.

"I feel so alone," he breathed.

Baxter's expression softened. "Oh, Alec. I know. But you're not. All you have to do is let us in."

Hardy closed his eyes and nodded. He wanted to, but it was the hardest thing to do, especially after the one person he'd let in more than anyone had trampled all over that trust. He didn't know if he could ever expose himself so completely and wholeheartedly again.

He took in a few deep breaths and opened his eyes. Maybe there'd be a day he could, but not today. Today, all he could do was to take a step that was going to lead him away from the riverbank and its gushing stream.

Baxter released him. "We have to go. It is time, Alec."

"Aye, it is," Hardy said gravely. Baxter shot him a quizzical glance. He'd referred to the train's departure, but his ears had perked up at Hardy's solemn tone.

"You all right?"

"'M fine," he replied, repeating the words that had become second nature to him.

Hardy climbed out of the car and closed the door. He caught his reflection in the window. His windswept hair was falling into his face. Brushing the fringe out of his eyes, he looked at the man in the mirror that he barely recognized. His cheeks were bare and naked, exposing his gaunt features to the world. It made him feel vulnerable, his weariness so out in the open. He had put on a shirt but no tie. In a way he wished he had, desperately holding on to the way things used to be. But he had changed, and no piece of clothing or slicked back hair could ever bring back what he'd lost.

He let his auburn bangs fall over his forehead and tugged his black coat tighter around him. Then he turned and slowly followed Baxter toward the train station's entrance. Not many words were exchanged. Baxter hugged him firmly.

"Goodbye, Alec. Text me when you get to Duncan's, will you?" There was a quiver in Baxter's voice.

"I will." Hardy shuffled his feet and hid his hands in his pockets. He faced Baxter, but dropped his gaze quickly to conceal the moisture in his eyes. "Thanks for everything. I couldn't have done it without your help. Goodbye, Ed." Before Baxter could say anything, he spun on his heels and stumbled onto the train. He found a spot and fell heavily onto the seat.

The train pulled out of the station. Right at the edge of Sandbrook, it crossed a bridge and left the river behind.

Hardy didn't.

 **FIN**


	46. EPILOGUE

**EPILOGUE**

 _Sometime in May..._

Hardy was hiding in Geena's study which seemed the only place in Duncan's house where the kids didn't roam freely. He was huddled over Geena's laptop, staring at the empty Google search bar. Then he typed in 'divorce', reluctantly and one letter after the other. His finger hovered over the enter key, and when he hit it, he closed his eyes.

The first listing was a government website titled " _Get a divorce -_ ". Trembling, he moved the cursor onto the link. There was a brief moment of hesitation, then he clicked it. He had taken his pills before retreating into the study, knowing that this wouldn't fall into the category of tranquil behaviors that his cardiac rehab program had suggested. Large black bold letters greeted him, throwing the words that he thought he'd never needed to think about in his face. There was an overview, stating the facts in clear and easy language. Three simply steps - file a divorce petition, apply for decree nisi, apply for decree absolute.

He had read through them several times, but it didn't stick. It was hard to focus when one's heart was aching, in more than one way. He fished through his pockets and added two more chalky tablets to the ones that he'd already ingested a while ago.

Then he clicked on the link for grounds for divorce. Adultery was at top of the list. The letters swam in front of him and before he knew it, there were tear drops on the touch pad. He vigorously wiped at them with his thumb. The page had scrolled down with his desperate attempt at erasing the traces of his misery. He stared at the list of unreasonable behaviors and briefly wondered if keeping a deadly heart condition secret could be counted as such. In Tess' eyes, the answer was probably yes.

He jumped when a gentle touch brushed down his back. His hands flew up to his cheeks, clumsily scrubbing away his tears, and he sniffed deeply.

"It's all right, Alec. You don't have to hide from me," Geena said softly, perching on the edge of her desk. She glanced at the screen and tilted her head.

"You know I'm a barrister, right? You don't have to deal with this. I can take care of it for you, if that's what you want." She paused and bent over the computer, clicking a few times until she found what she was looking for. _'Get a legal separation'_ was plastered on top of the page, looking just as menacing as the divorce website had. "You also have this option, if you think you need some time apart to work things out." Her voice was neutral, not letting on to what her opinion was.

"Tess has no interest in working anything out. She made that very clear to me," Hardy stated sharply. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tossed his glasses on the desk, already exasperated with the process before it had even begun. "She also said, she doubts that I'm the right person to take care of Daisy at the moment."

Geena's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "It's not hers to decide, Alec. I will make sure that she won't use your health issues against you, if that's what you're worried about."

Hardy leaned back in the chair, panting, his pounding heart reminding him that it might all be a moot point in the end. "And how are you going to do that? I can't work, I can't drive and I could drop dead at any moment while I'm supposed to be taking care of my daughter," he spat, voicing his frustration.

"Alec, children don't get removed from their parents because they are ill. They get removed from their parents because they didn't care or are potentially harmful. Neither one of these reasons apply to you. Tess can try, but I'm _good_ at what I do and she doesn't stand a chance," Geena reassured him confidently.

"Besides, if you can't agree, then it will go to court and Daisy is old enough that they will include her in the hearing," she added.

Hardy's eyes widened. "I don't want that. I don't want her to get dragged into this. How could you expect her to take sides?" he asked in horror.

"That's not what they do. They simply want to make sure that whatever arrangements are made are in the best interest of the child, and that includes listening to what the child has to say," Geena explained gently.

Hardy shook his head and buried his face in his palms. All of this was too much to bear. He had done everything to protect Daisy, but to no avail. Whatever moves he made, life had other intentions and didn't let him catch a break.

"I can't lose her, Geena. She's all that I've got left," he whimpered. He was ashamed at his display of weakness, but the thought of being apart from his daughter broke down his last defenses that he'd been trying so hard to uphold.

"Oh, Alec," she sighed and pulled him up and over to the sofa. He slumped into the cushions, crumpling in on himself. He lacked the strength to support himself. She sat next to him, cradling him to her chest and holding him tight. When he had calmed down, she let go of him and found his eyes.

"I actually came in here for a different reason than looking for you." She stood and fetched a large envelope. She peered into it and then rummaged about until she found what she was searching for. She handed him a photograph.

"It's one of my favorites from the wedding. I meant to give it to you ever since you came to stay with us."

Hardy's eyes flicked back and forth between the photo and Geena. It was a stunning picture of an infectiously happy Daisy, caught at the very moment he had twirled her around while they were dancing. Her long hair was flowing around her elated face and her smile warmed his heart more than anything had in recent weeks.

"This girl will always love you, Alec. Regardless of what custody arrangements you'll have. Tess can try to turn her against you, but in the end that always backfires. I've seen it many times. Daisy might be angry right now because she doesn't understand everything that's going on. You'll need to address it with her once you're better, but she's still your little girl and that will never change. You were willing to give up _everything_ to protect her and one day she will understand the truth behind your actions. That day might not be tomorrow or any time soon, but she will come around," Geena argued passionately.

Hardy made a choking noise, unable to articulate his feelings of love and sorrow. "I miss her so much," he whispered, his words swallowed by his tears and anguish.

Geena curled her arm around his shaking shoulders and tugged him close again. "I know," she breathed in his ear. "I know."

They sat together until Hardy had no more tears left. He was still clutching the photo to his chest. He uncurled his fingers and his eyes came to rest on his daughter's lovely face. It helped him to pull himself together yet another time, stubbornly refusing to give up. He fished out his wallet and opened it to the smiling face of another girl whose fate had changed his life forever. He folded Daisy's picture carefully and slid it into a hidden spot in his wallet, protecting it from the wear and tear that life brought with it. Then he took in a shuddering breath and stood to face whatever was coming his way, holding on tightly to the memories that were hidden away deep inside his ailing heart.

* * *

 _For all of the loved ones gone  
Forever's not so long  
And in your soul  
They poked a million holes  
But you never let them show  
Come on its time to go_

 _And you already know_  
 _Yet you already know_  
 _How this will end_

Devotchka _– "How It Ends"_

* * *

 **Closing Note for "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul – Part Two"**

It is hard to believe that I am writing these few paragraphs. When I wrote "A Better Way To Fall" I never thought what this would grow into. The fact that Hardy carried around the picture of a dead girl made me incredibly sad. I wanted him to have something else to hold onto. And there it was, that moment of bliss with his daughter at his best friend's wedding. Then someone said to me, that they wanted to see the story behind the photo and I thought, hey that might be fun to write. Almost a year, roughly 300 000 words, and a million holes poked into Alec Hardy's soul later, here we are. It's been an incredible journey for so, so many reasons. I've cried, I've laughed, and I've been discouraged and encouraged. I've cursed the English language which isn't my mother's tongue and I've cursed punctuation even more. I've made friends which was the most surprising and rewarding part of it. And I've had a companion in this story in a time where I needed one.

I could elaborate on the pain that Chibnall's inconsistencies and various other issues caused, but I don't want to. I embraced the challenge, and it was fun and exhilarating and I would do it again in a stuttering heartbeat (see what I did there – LOL – I'm feeling a bit giddy). It's not a perfect story, it's not the most eloquent prose, but it comes from my heart and soul, and I am proud of it. And now I can move on and go PLAY – with Alec and Daisy and Ellie and everyone else. The excitement that I feel about delving into "The Ocean Breathes Salty" and "Down By The River" is enormous. There is one more thing to point out – I was floored by how much I grew fond of my OCs. Ed Baxter is almost as close to my heart by now than Alec Hardy is and the others follow suit. The fact that the readers liked them so much as well makes me incredibly happy. So thanks for that!

And that brings me to the Thank You's...

First, I would like to THANK YOU, THE READERS of this story. If you're reading these words, it means you've travelled with Alec on this horrid journey of a man's life falling apart. Along this long way, you've suffered through endless crying, collapsing and calamities that I unleashed upon him. You might have emptied out the stock of tissue paper at your local drugstore. You might have moved on from a decent cuppa to stronger beverages. You might have chucked things at your screen. You might have laughed now and then. You might be heartbroken for Daisy and Alec. And you might have grown fond of Craig, Louise, Geena, Baxter, Emily, Duncan, Swenson and Liz. I have no way of knowing. But what I do know is that without your support and commitment to this story, I would have never been able to write it. So, with all my heart, THANK YOU!

There are a few people who I would like to send a shout out to specifically as they faithfully left comments on almost every chapter or messaged me otherwise: LizAnn_5869, Sgt_Pepperony94, franzi86, ktrosesworld, ninewood, and also norvegianwood, alectheta, Lily-Dragon, Casey Storm, pgilmour, curiositykilledthecatfish, and creamcoloredconverse. And thank you also to all those who left kudos. All this love make me very happy!

Secondly, I would like to thank Chris Chibnall for creating such a wonderful character and David Tennant for bringing him to life. You have given us endless hours of entertainment. And I hope you would take it as compliment that I wrote this crazy story and not as infringement on your work if your lawyers ever get funny ideas. I don't own anything ;-)

Last but not least, I would like to THANK HAZELMIST for everything that she has done. My words are not elaborate enough to express my gratitude to her. She has been with me from the day I wrote "A Better Way To Fall". She has been encouraging, enthusiastic, funny, constructive, supportive, and just PLAIN WONDERFUL. I would be nothing without her and this story would be nothing without her. Soppy as I am, I'm tearing up writing this, just as much as when I watched her leave the last comment on the epilogue on the google file. And to quote er about the end: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" But as we both know, things must come to a close and you've been with me along to get there. So, my dearest friend – with the utmost appreciation and from the deepest pocket of my heart: THANK YOU. I owe you.

Before I end this note, I want to share what's next... there are still certain moments in Hardy's life before he comes to Broadchurch that I need to tell to round out my universe. They will deal with the fallout of the "shit plan", his relationship with Daisy and what happens at the trial. It's sort of an unofficial Part 3 to the saga. So stay tuned for the never-ending story... Thank you and it was a blast!


End file.
